A Lannister Legacy
by Dark2187
Summary: Lord Tywin has another son to continue the family legacy. When Jaime is appointed to the Kingsguard, the heir of House Lannister is married to Lysa Tully. This union will clash with House Stark and change the Game of Thrones.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

Cries of pain reverberated from the birthing chamber inside the great fortress of Casterly Rock. But the labor was quick in relative terms, and a new son was born to the great Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, and Hand of the King. For years the most feared man in the seven kingdoms could not sire an heir with his beloved wife Joanna. But fortune eventually favored the great lord. Fair Lady Joanna had borne twins the previous year, a son and daughter. They were known as the golden twins, the future of the great and powerful House Lannister. And now the great family gained another asset, Lucien of House Lannister.

Lord Tywin stood at his wife's side and appraised his son. As always, a newborn child appears unremarkable. Beat red, and constantly squalling. Lord Tywin hated the sound, throughout the first year of the twin's lives he had resigned their care entirely to his wife and servants. He would see his newborn son and then return to his solar, he was Hand of the King and he had pressing work to be accomplished. King Aerys levied near the entire burden of the Kingdom on Lord Tywin, certainly the dependent demands of infants should be dealt with by others. When the boy reached the age of four, Lord Lannister would begin preliminary instruction with the boy. He would not be the heir, but Tywin's own brother, Kevan, was a great asset both militarily and politically. The boy would be groomed for this same role. He would be a respected lord, a Lion. Tywin Lannister never smiled, his fool of a father seemed to have a smile permanently plastered on his face. For this reason, Lord Tywin hated laughter, he gave only gave a barest hint of a smile when he was alone with his wife. A full smile had only occurred twice in recent memory. His wedding day and the birth of his twins, his future. After crying for the entirety of his lord Father's presence, the newborn stopped crying, perhaps his mother's attempts at soothing him were finally successful. But the boy seemed to look at Lord Tywin, the infamous strong Lion of the west. Lord Tywin smiled.

 **Lucien**

He was a comely 16 year old youth, but compared to the famed handsomeness and beauty of his older siblings he seemed ugly by comparison. He was tall from an early age reaching two inches over six feet to match the height of Jaime and his father. Always clean shaven. His hair was short and of course the famed Lannister blond.

His horse, a magnificent solid white strode through the grass and approached the Castle of Riverrun alongside his father and a select host. They were an impressive sight as they marched through the bright summer day.

Much had changed in the last few months and the entire seven kingdoms were shaken. There was a new king, Robert Baratheon the first of his name, and Lucien's sister Cersei was Robert's new queen. The Targaryens had ruled Westeros for centuries, but Aerys had been known as the Mad King and had turned the vast majority of his kingdom against him. Then Prince Rhaegar had kidnapped the Warden of the North's Daughter, and when it was argued, Lord Rickard of Winterfell and his son were burned to death. That started the war, but his own father, Lord Tywin Lannister had held back his armies helping neither side, only when it was clear that Robert would be victorious after he killed Prince Rhaegar did the Lannister's pay their debts to King Aerys the Mad.

Lucien had entered Kings Landing with his father as they sacked the city. Any Targaryen loyalists were surprised and quickly killed. Lucien had been on horseback and protected by a personal escort, donning the finest armor gold could buy. He had beaten everyone that he spared with at Casterly Rock, full grown men were thrown back by the young man's physical strength. Two weeks before departure he had surprised Ser Leolydd the Master at Arms and bested him, given Tywin complete confidence to ride into battle. To be fair it was more slaughter then combat, but one guard had swung at him. The strike was pitiful and Lucien's sword swung back and cut the man's neck as he rode past him. His first kill, and he truly felt a Lion as he rode through the streets.

The king was dead, his own brother Jaime had killed him. He had been sworn to the Kingsguard as a way to spite Lord Tywin by preventing his heir from marrying. Also it proved to be an able hostage and was a factor that Tywin stuck with trickery rather than rallying the banners at the beginning of the war. Jaime had been acquitted of any potential crime, which was just as Lucien saw it. Yes he killed the king but after all everyone involved rebelled against the king, all had sworn fealty to the king at one point. They were all oath breakers and it was necessary. He had heard scorn from common people over the next years. All in the land were calling his brother Kingslayer. It would have been an impressive title if it hadn't been said with disgust. Besides, calling his brother out on supposed lack of honor was rich, considering that even though he was appointed as a slight by a mad king, Jaime refused to leave the Kingsguard meaning he could not inherit land nor father children. He could not serve as Lord Tywin's heir, which was why Lucien had arrived at Riverrun today, to fulfill his new duty as the future of House Lannister.

She was pretty enough he supposed, no beauty like his own sister but that wasn't surprising. Besides he had a duty, he did not require beauty and the girl would serve his desires enough.

Lysa Tully was tall, just under 6 feet. She was lanky and carried a dopy smile. She was either very excited by his presence or an exceptional actor. Of course it was the later. Jon Aryan the Lord Paramount of the Vale was five and fifty. Without a living child he needed an heir and Lord Tywin's spies had told him that Lysa Tully was his only prime candidate, being a Lord Paramount's Daughter. Lucien was now Tywin's heir and he needed a wife. But his wife needed a prominent position by association and Lysa Tully was the only prominent marriage option outside the Westerlands. Of course she would jump into his arms rather than the bed of an old man so she tried everything she could to please the Lannister suitor as unnecessary her actions were. They would be married should either of them wish it or not. In her earnestness the girl naturally overdid her efforts. Lucien normally offered few words like his father, each word needed to be necessary and impactful, Lysa could not be more of the opposite ranging from topic to topic at a frantic pace, fawning over him, his father, and the Westerlands, which she had never seen. She did not seem very witty, but she would make due. So he did what was necessary and smiled at her, complimenting her (he tried to make the lies subtle and she ate up every word). He described the Westerlands and Casterly Rock due to her questions, he did not have to lie to appeal the area to her. The wealth and spender of House Lannister was known by the lowest commoners in the far corners of the seven kingdoms. At the end of the night he had her eating out of his hand. All an act but necessary and extremely easy, _I am the Knight in Shining Armor to save her from a crusty old man whose attempts to pleasure her would sputter and die_.

"Oh I do enjoy your company good Ser Lannister" the girl droned on, it was likely she had said this exact line multiple times this night. He hadn't been knighted either but no matter. "Tomorrow if it pleases you I would show you the gardens, they are most lovely early in the morning. I'd provide a chivalrous man such as yourself any experience Riverrun can provide." He stopped himself from snorting. _That could almost have been considered an advance._ The pure flattery sounded the same as the many girls who wished his advances due to being a Lannister. He refused to associate with whores they were beneath him. It seemed beneath the beautiful dress, great castle, and powerful father this girl was no different. But this girl is what his father commanded he take so take her he will.

"I would enjoy the scenery of Riverrun's famed gardens Lady Lysa, though it is your company that has my interest, I will gladly accompany you."

He didn't consider this compliment exceptionally good, but Lysa looked at him as if he were a God. She blushed and giggled like the maiden she was. _Gods what an annoying sound that giggle_.

"Oh Lord Lannister you are too kind" she spoke almost breathlessly "I will tell my Lord Father, yes I'll tell him truly of your good character Ser."

Her father was seated at the center of the long high table where the Tully and Lannister family were seated. He was talking with Lucien's father and it was clear Hoster Tully had no need or desire for his daughter's opinion. His father had talked with Hoster Tully the entire feast, securing Lord Tully's consent. Lord Tywin never failed in influencing others, this marriage was already secured across the table.

"I will be a dutiful wife to you my Lord, birth you strong sons and beautiful daughters. My father dotes on me, I have his ear. He can benefit you through me, he loves me so. The seven has blessed me, my sister is tied to a brute up in the cold north and I seemed condemned to lay for a frail old man. But you have come to save me, chivalrous knight. I pledge my love to you brave lion, I will please you Ser Lannister I swear it."

 _Finally she touches on something I care about, the only thing, though she drones on and on. Like you could manipulate Hoster Tully don't make me laugh, though your wiliness to throw aside your family to greater fortunes with me is somewhat amusing. I need children aided by influence in the Riverlands that this marriage provides. Very well I'll be your Savior. My mother was by all accounts a great aid to my father before she was ripped away. You cannot fulfill this role, but there are worse marriage options than a willing, naive fool._

"Every man dreams of coming to the aid of a fair lady. Your Lord Father will consent to our match. From my short time with him it is apparent that he wishes to see you happy." _He will agree because my Lord Father will ensure he does. Hand of the King or no, Tywin Lannister is the most powerful man in the seven Kingdoms._ "And you shall be happy in the glamour of Casterly Rock my lady, as happy as you are tonight."

Lysa lit up, even more gleeful than before. Enough of a reaction for the nearby bannermen, ladies, and servants to awkwardly look over at the soon to be couple, it was clear to everyone that this visit had quickly turned from suitor to engagement. Lucien gave a smile as close to a real one to the future lady of Casterly Rock. It was nearly painful for everyone to look his way. Some of these men were his future bannermen. He might as well have been the one to make the scene. His father caught his eye, an experience that had made Lucien cower in fear as a young boy. Tywin Lannister gave no indication at all of the success of this visit, let alone that the girl was fawning over his son and heir. _Nor should he, everything is going as planned. This night was easy, ensuring the legacy of House Lannister will be the great task before us. Tywin and Lucien Lannister, every man, woman, and child shall respect our names._ Lucien gave his father the slightest nod.

 **Lucien: 4 months later**

They were wed in the beautiful sept overlooking the cliffs of Casterly Rock through large ornate windows. Lucien did not take much heed to beauty but he had to acknowledge the magnificence of the location. He took the time to revel in the scenery before his wife was led to meet him at the altar. After his mother died he hardly ever came here, his father cared little for the Gods of the seven and like with most things he followed his father's example. He was dressed as befitting the heir of the greatest Lord of the seven kingdoms. He found such pomp irritating, but of course he would play his part and do his duty.

All of Lord Tywin's bannermen had come to see their future Lord wed. The majority of Lord Hoster's bannermen were present as well and entertainment was planned as befitting the marriage of the children of two Lord Paramounts and the surrounding company. It was even grander than the wedding of King Robert and Queen Cersei, he suspected Jon Aryan wished to save the crown's finances. That put a smirk on his face. His sister had always wanted to be queen and her own wedding, while grand, felt lesser than the marriage of her second brother, a brother she had largely ignored.

Cersei herself stood at the front of the audience, her radiant beauty slightly undone by the jealous scorn etched on her face. His Lord Father stood beside her, his face as always portraying no emotion despite seeing his heir married. His brother Ser Jaime stood in the white cloak of the Kingsguard, even at his own brother's wedding. _All this could have been yours brother, I and my father should thank you, enjoy guarding the King as he fucks your sister, I will stand at father's side where you should have been all along._

Next to Ser Jaime, Lucien had to drop his eyes to see his brother Tyrion, the dwarf, the Imp of Casterly Rock. It must have pained Lord Tywin to bring the Imp publically in front of so many guests. He gazed over him quickly, at nine years old his brother was insignificant. Jaime loved the dwarf, Cersei hated him. In a way Lucien hated him too, with his birth he had torn apart his mother. She had been kind, read to him and taught him lessons. But those memories paled in comparison to how he truly remembered his mother; her screams that carried across corridors as the dwarf slowly killed her. He wouldn't blindly reject him however, however much Tywin hated Tyrion he was given an education equal to his other children. The dwarf may very well benefit House Lannister and Lucien wouldn't push him away. He wasn't kind to the dwarf either, though it was rare he was particularly kind to anyone. A lion wasn't kind, but kindness could be utilized to be cunning.

At long last his bride walked down the aisle arm in arm with Lord Hoster Tully. Her dress was expensive and exquisite and enhanced her fair face. The ceremony passed in a blur, unnecessary pomp and vows. He recited his lines accordingly. He cloaked his bride in Lannister red, gave her a dutiful kiss and strode down the aisle of the sept.

The feast was grand, he sampled each dish and noticed his skinny wife eating generous portions and clearly basking in the attention given to her. He started the dance early in hopes to ensure her drink did not match her food or before she spilled something on her radiant dress. It wouldn't do well for his image if his wife were drunk and stumbled over him in front of so many guests. The solo dance was finished to the applause of the spectators. And as was customary he danced with other partners. Cousins of his bride, wives and daughters of lords, and his portly Aunt Genna who couldn't resist to whisper barbs at his wife's intelligence. He expected nothing less from her.

"Lovely wedding nephew, though bit of a sad affair for me personally, I'm selfish I know, but after speaking to your Lady wife its clear I'll be resigned to managing the upkeep of Casterly Rock until the day I die while you and my brother scheme to your heart's content. A women's work is rarely recognized and it seems Tywin ensured I will have no useful assistance in this matter whatsoever" She spoke with false despair.

"Why my dear Aunt stop this morose attitude. You should rejoice and kiss Father's ring for arranging this match. The young shall learn from the elder. Just as father has molded myself, you shall influence dear Lysa. Nothing would bring me more happiness then for my wife to take after my dear Aunt."

His Aunt was caught off-guard and her expression portrayed a mix of surprise, amusement, and irritation. "Sarcasm is unbecoming of you Lucien, perhaps married life has begun to change you from the stone statue you currently resemble."

"Statues are erected to commemorate valor and men of great legacy, it is appropriate I am in the image of greatness."

"How chivalrous to allow the slight on your woman but take an opportunity to praise your own self."

The next partners were unmemorable, he did dance with the bastard daughter of Lord Horace Margave of the Riverlands. A surprise that she was in attendance, famed for her beauty and cursed with natural birth. While restrained, she appeared enamored with him or at least what he represented. _Subtlety is rare these days, shame it's wasted on a bastard daughter._ She had nothing meaningful to say however and blended with the rest. Until he came to dance with his own sister Queen Cersei, a wicked smile plastered on her face.

"Dear brother what a wondrous occasion, such glamour and extravagance for a second son."

"Quite true, I am surprised you would grace me with your elegant presence sister, did you desire a rest from the capital? Court not what you expected? The King is attentive?"

That hit a mark, her face twitched for a moment, she hid it quickly but the short action spoke a thousand words. He concealed a satisfied smirk, he found Cersei insufferable, and anything that disturbed her fairy tale story without harming House Lannister satisfied him greatly. Lucien took charge leading the two of them away from the majority of the crowd. He spoke so softly that only Cersei could possibly hear him, the low volume caused the words to hold a terrifying edge.

"Do not fret and chase after the Kings affections, you only need to birth his heirs. His grace is like most men and pines after what he cannot have, most likely he laments the Stark girl that he lost."

His sister recovered and smiled sweetly at him, her voice with feigned courtesy laced with venom.

"His grace adores me greatly, coming to my bedchamber every night and I will carry the heir of the Iron Throne."

"He must have a long cock to reach you from King's Landing, be sure to do your duty."

"I am Queen, my son will be King, I have power through the Crownlands, everything that I wish. I fear you do not have everything brother, Father will live a long while. I also spoke with your dear wife, it appears she left her wits in the Riverlands."

Lucien regarded her coldly, he hated to concede this point but he wouldn't lie to defend Lysa, an obvious lie would fall right into Cersei's hands. Lysa could be molded over time. When trading barbs with his sister he learned how to take charge and deliver the final strike.

"Children and alliances are not conceived and fostered by a women's wits, she has given us a foothold in the Riverlands. You believe Robert's crown gives you power? The lout is not suited away from a battlefield. I shall stand at father's side, my rightful place, and mold Westeros to our design."

Before she could respond, Lucien turned to his side and called out to the person next to him, a young man of 18 and blond hair that made him look nearly a Lannister, though he was far to kind to be one, "Gentleman, Jiyason Wedlland I believe, would you do the groom the honor of taking a dance with my sister Her Illustrious Grace?"

"If it would please Her grace it would be my honor" the young man answered respectfully. Enough people had heard and Cersei could ill afford to be so publicly rude to a noble. She accepted with a fake smile and gave Lucien a look as she moved away.

He returned to the high table, his wife was leaning back in her chair speaking with her Lord Father. Lucien's own father hovered over the two of them. Hoster Tully spoke softly but Lucien could hear Lysa from afar. But when she saw her husband she disregarded her father.

"My love, you've returned! I've missed you so. Our dance was so graceful, so passionate. No man could match you. Too much cold courtesy in their stance, but your dwarf brother was the worst, he must have done it as a cruel jape, I had to bend down for the little boy and he stepped over my feet at every step."

Her speech was slurred enough to put her drunkenness beyond any doubt. He had heard snickers from those seated close by as he approached. This had to end immediately, laughter at the expense of House Lannister in the vicinity of Tywin Lannister could not end well. She had surrounded herself with supposed well-wishers and bathed in the attention, drinking along the way. He noted that Tyrion was close enough to hear Lysa's words and looked disheartened. Perhaps he meant it innocently, but the boy should have known better than attempt a dance with his towering bride.

He could imagine Tywin berating him for not keeping a close eye on Lysa, but it was customary to dance for a prolonged time to socialize. It appeared Lysa preferred to have people ascend the dais to greet her. Tywin could have stopped the flow of wine at any time, it was likely he allowed this to teach his son a lesson, which would aid the relationship in the long term. It would do well to remove Lysa from others eyes before she said another foolish thing too loudly, like announcing her eternal love and attempting to kiss him before the whole host. The look in her eyes showed that to be a dangerous possibility. Lord Hoster was of the same mind.

"Goodson" Tully said in a resigned manner "Perhaps the bedding should commence"

"Agreed" Lord Tywin said dryly, the unspoken lesson communicated through eye contact with his son. He seemed to approach from thin air.

Lysa beamed "An excellent idea father, why I would just sit here for the rest of the time and the food and wine will soon stop. No reason at all to dawdle."

The wine and food was flowing liberally at the other tables, but she did not notice this.

She rose unsteadily and beamed at him. Hoster Tully looked dismayed seeing his little girl acting in her current state.

"The bedding should commence" Lucien confirmed simply in the same tone as his father.

Lord Tywin immediately addressed the feast and formally announced the bedding as if it were mundane as describing the weather.

"Lord Lucien and Lady Lysa of House Lannister have been wed and fed, by tradition now they shall bed."

 _And the bride shall soon be dead, should her wine intake inflate at the same rate as her ego. She is acting an absolute fool. At least with a host this large, not all reached the dais when she was drunk. Too busy feasting and partaking in merriment themselves. This mummery must end before an embarrassment occurs._

He encouraged the men who participated in the ceremony to come up and pick her up before she left her place on the dais so that the whole audience would not see her inebriated state as she fumbled down the stairs. Jaime knowingly smirked at Lucien as he passed him.

Lysa was carried away, blushing and giggling fueled by the wine she had consumed. Lucien saw Jaime among the men carrying her, his hand suspiciously close to groping and could hear him as he spoke loudly "Apologies to those attempting to sleep above and near their bedchamber, you'll hear the lions roaring all night." That brought bawdy laughter from many men. Lucien could imagine the irritation on his father's face, as children risking the ire of their father was considered suicide by the Lannister children, but Jaime had grown bold with his position on the Kingsguard.

In contrast to his wife being carried. Lucien took long confident strides, calmly towards the bedchamber like a proud lion, requiring the ladies attending him to keep his pace. As the son of Tywin Lannister they were cautious with him and did not say anything. His Aunt Genna made the first move unbuttoning his doublet "Come on ladies he cannot do his duty in the bedchamber dressed" she scoffed. That motivated them enough to take the majority of the clothing on his upper torso off. Margrave's bastard was the most aggressive, they didn't dare reach below his waist. Due to his brisk pace it may very well trip him.

The ladies scattered when he reached the right side entrance to the bedchamber eager to leave, though the bastard lingered longer than the rest, though he started later, his pace put him in front of Lysa. "Sire my brother a grandson, I would like to see him smile again before he dies." His Aunt Genna remarked as she left him alone, with none of the sarcasm she commonly used. Lucien paused for a moment, the genuine words affecting him. Picturing a smile on his father's face was unconscionable. The one person Lucien loved was his father, it wasn't a warm relationship but instead one of growing respect. He couldn't make his father happy, but he could make him proud. This wedding was the beginning of Lucien's claim for the future. The future Lady of the Rock would need to live up to the high reputation his mother set. Perhaps Lucien was being as foolish as what he silently accused his wife of being, and Lysa Lannister could be more than a tool. A challenge, but one he would do what he could to make a reality. The Lady of the Rock was a prestigious title, his father was owed a dignified successor to that post. If the girl felt the weight of expectations, perhaps she would apply herself.

After he entered, his wife was carried in as well. Her dress was torn and her body was mostly exposed. In fact, there wasn't much left of the dress at all. _My brother's doing no doubt, always wanted to make himself known in every situation._ Jaime called out to him as they left them alone "Careful with this one brother, she's more like to have wine come out of her then maiden blood." He left before he could reply _. All three siblings have mocked me tonight. But the brothers have shamed themselves in father's eyes already and Cersei is more like than not to displease him in some way._

He regarded his wife with a cold look. She didn't seem bothered by his expression or she was drunk enough not to notice. She sauntered up to him, it was a good thing she was carried, she may have not have reached the chamber without falling.

"My Lord" she said lustfully, no hint of shyness at all "I am yours, I wish to truly please you."

Most boys would have dove into such an invitation. But three moons shy of 17 years old, Lucien Lannister was no boy.

He spoke in a low voice, using the same diction he heard his father use many times. A relatively quiet, but commanding and assertive voice.

"It would please me should I have your word that you never publicly act as you have. I have no tolerance for drunkenness, nor does my lord father. I will not have japes made at the expense of a Lady of House Lannister. I have cloaked and made you a lion, a lion is not clumsy, a lion is proud, a lion roars."

His words seemed to momentarily drain the alcohol from her blood. The prideful arrogance from the dais was gone. For a moment, she looked nothing more than a terrified child. _The thoughts for the future cause me to sometimes forget how young we are. For the love of any gods, you dare not cry._ She seemed to recover and bowed her head. "My lord… My lord I offer most sincere apologies, I…I shall honor you with courtesy that is due." She seemed to be on the verge of shaking. _Good the message sank in._

"A mistake you won't repeat, my sweet lady. I say such things for your benefit. I want to see you loved and respected. I am of a proud and powerful family, and you shall sit by my side with our children. Men and women from across the seven kingdoms will speak of the hospitality of the Lady of the Rock, the strength of her sons and fairness of her daughters. You shall be remembered with respect."

She looked up at him with wonder in her eyes, clearly picturing the perfect future he painted for her. "Yes my Lord, as you say" she spoke with longing.

"You shall be courteous dear Lysa, but while we are alone… well I did enjoy the lust in your voice"

Lysa donned that dopey grin again and squealed with renewed drunken glee as she was pulled towards her husband, the remains of her dress discarded.

It was wise of Lord Tywin to ensure no one occupied nearby rooms near and above the bedded couple that night, it was ensured that future bedchambers were isolated. If there was ever a time that Lysa Lannister roared like a lion _,_ it was in the bedchamber.

 **Lysa**

 _I was a fool_ Lysa thought as she lay in bed later in the night, her husband asleep. When awake he looked alive and proud, even terrifying to a degree. But asleep he appeared peaceful. _A foolish girl who was caught up in the moment, well wishes from men and women I had hardly shared a previous word with. I am better than that old stupid insipid bitch. I will begin anew. I will prove myself to my new house. Grow into a true lion. For my lord husband will provide everything and I can aid him not only with children but with my mind. The gods are good. Cat is frozen in the North an unruly beast burst from her belly. I shall bear Lords and Ladies, I've finally finished ahead of her for once._ That put a smile on her face. Not the smile she normally gave, a malicious one. _I wanted to see her expression in that frozen wasteland when she heard that I have a golden lion. Unable to attend my own wedding, I sat through yours the somber affair. The snows are too thick, unsafe travel, a new babe. Ha, excuses, jealousy. Her dull Northern husband couldn't have done this to her._


	2. Lucien I

**Lucien: 14 years later**

What a desolate place. His powerful black horse strode through the countryside. His host followed, but they were no happier than he. For two weeks they had tracked north. After visiting his wife's girlhood home, the Lannister host travelled through the Neck towards the Northern Capital of Winterfell, the seat of House Stark. At 31 years old Lucien Lannister had seen every city in the Westerlands he would one day rule. Semiregular visits to the Riverlands and Kings Landing, and he had treated in the Mountains of the Vale. But those areas held at least some charm, the North to his experience was desolate, dreary, and thoroughly dull.

War and battles had shaped him. He had been off the coast of Lannisport when the Ironmen had attacked, the fighting had been fierce, badly outnumbered, but Lucien Lannister's commands had rallied even common men to fight back against the raiders until relief could arrive. But not before he had come face to face with a mountain of a man, a beast really. Berric Harlow had terrified men on the western coast for two decades, and he was slain by the then 23 year old heir of Casterly Rock. That had been the beginning of his legacy, though he had received a scar above his left eye from the encounter. A slight change in angle of the cut he would have lost his eye and then his life. Instead he had taken the beast's head off and emerged from those shores a changed man. He had been active in the King's Assault on Pyke. Many Ironmen fell to his sword and he had experienced true blood lust. His brutality had shown as he ordered women and children killed in the castle of Harlow that he captured. Recompense for the lives taken by their previous deceased lord. They were little more than savages, all Ironmen should have been put to death for their rebellion. The iron born way of life of raiding and pillaging was barbaric and should have been purged. After that the bannermen of House Lannister saw him differently, he was no longer simply an heir, but a vengeful warrior and the true successor to Tywin Lannister, the Ironmen would pay for their reeving and arson with blood.

He would never come to the North willingly. His father bid him to establish contact with the North. Jon Aryan was old and as an old friend of the King, Eddard Stark would likely be the next Hand. Stark's daughter would also be a prime candidate to wed the heir to the Iron throne, Prince Joffrey.

Stark was married to Catelyn Tully, sister to Lysa. That served as a semi front for a visit, though its actual purpose was purely political. Stark was not his only target. He spoke with Northern Lords Roose Bolton and Wyman Manderly at great length. Those visits would likely fair far better than he expected the future meeting with the head of House Stark would go. He did not expect Stark to head a single word, but he would do as his father commanded.

Lysa was loyal to him and did everything he asked publicly. She had surprised him over the years. She had been challenged and risen to the occasion. She was motivated and at times he even found himself enjoying her company. Lysa was rewarded accordingly with expensive gifts, she was the envy of every woman in Westeros. Queen Cersei herself could not match her splendor at times, and King Robert certainly ensured that the Queen did not enjoy herself.

Lysa Lannister had no kind words for her sister, no doubt childhood tension that festered after years apart. He could not bring himself to care for his sister in law, Eddard Stark, or the North in general. But if Stark would arrive in Kings Landing and his daughter became a future queen, he was worth the attention. So he had gathered loyal soldiers, his wife, and their five children, and arranged to meet with the Starks.


	3. Catelyn I

**Catelyn**

They were here, she would see her sister after all these years. Servants hurried to ready for their imminent arrival. They were in the courtyard, and the entire Stark family was front in center ready to great the Southerners. The air was cold considering that it was the sixth month, with a slight chill in a gentle breeze. She wore her finest clothes, but she ensured she wore a Northern style. She was a Stark and would dress the part. Beside her stood her husband Lord Eddard Stark dressed in typical Northern attire. He stared resolutely at the gate where the Lannisters would arrive from. Eddard's opinion of the Lannisters and Catelyn's brother in law specifically could not be clearer. He hated Ser Lannister's brother Jaime for breaking his oath by killing King Aerys, his Lord father by not supporting the rebellion until the outcome was decided and then killing the prince's children. He hated Lucien Lannister by association and by reputation, she had asked him what Lannister was like years ago as he had fought alongside Eddard during the Greyjoy rebellion.

"The Lannister brothers are good fighters there is no denying that. But they are no honorable sort, Jaime betrayed his oath and revels in it, and Lucien put the sword to Castle Harlow. Men, women, and children. I pray he treats your sister well, but he is no good man."

She found herself having to remind herself to breathe. They were not the closest of sisters, she didn't know what reaction her sister would have. They were of the same blood and at the very least that would count for something. _I doubt this trip is Lysa's doing though, if it was, Lannister would not have travelled all this way with all his children. He wants something. A marriage match? The children are cousins and of similar age. I doubt he would think highly of the North, but he has four daughters perhaps he wants one of them to be with Robb._

She calmed herself and the gates opened. Mounted knights rode through the gate carrying various banners of the Westerlands, the Lion of Lannister prominent among them.

Her children all looked along in awe. And how could they not, seeing such an armored host. They had seen her husband's soldiers, but those experiences paled to what they saw now. Her four year old Rickon seemed about to cry from the noise and she quickly consoled him.

A carriage pulled up, no doubt containing her sister and nieces. But before it opened, he strode in. It was Lucien Lannister no doubt about it. She had seen a few tourneys with her father, but she had never seen such an ornate piece of armor. It shone red and gold with two lionesses perched on the shoulders. He wore a lion's helm and rode a powerful mount black as night. Even his black boots looked like works of art. Beside him rode a boy of 12 clad in expensive armor. The son and heir. Catelyn could feel her husband's glare, he did not appreciate the show that the Westerlanders seemed to be putting on.

Lannister and his son dismounted. The elder removed the helm to show his face and customary Lannister blond hair. The hair seemed to be thinning and even from a distance his green eyes were dull but piercing. Despite his declining attractiveness he looked the quintessential knight. He was fair of face but battle had weathered his looks and expression and given him battle scars. It seemed to enhance the fearsome reputation he had. The boy opened the carriage door and took a women by the hand. Lysa, her sister. She wore a radiant dress of crimson and gold. Her hair done in an elegant southern fashion, it must have took hours to do. Catelyn pitied the poor girl who must have done it while on the bumpy road. She wore an ornate necklace with a large diamond in the center and her fingers were adorned with golden rings. Lysa had never been particularly beautiful, but at this moment she looked a queen, only lacking a crown. She walked forward after being helped out of the carriage by her son to join her husband in approaching the Stark family. She wore a smile, not a smile Catelyn used to see on Lysa as a young girl however. An arrogant smile.

Lucien Lannister stood face to face with Eddard Stark. Lysa stood several paces behind her husband and proudly stared at Catelyn. Her children stood with her all five of them. The son and four daughters. Catelyn's attention was drawn to a little girl no more than 3 years old with auburn hair. The Tully look through and through. _Let Lysa gloat, I will still spend time with her, and at the least I will take the opportunity to meet her children. I may never get a chance to see them again._

"Lord Stark, a pleasure" Lannister spoke in a commanding voice. He was not smiling, but the edges of his lips were slightly curled upwards. Catelyn thought he had a restrained but arrogant look. A product of a life of extreme wealth. A look that seemed to say that he owned Winterfell and everyone in it. Looking at the two of them the Tully sister's husbands could not be more different in looks. With Lannister's armor it made Stark's furs and best doublet seem humble and drab by comparison.

"Ser Lucien Lannister, welcome to Winterfell. I offer you and your men the castle's hospitality" Stark spoke evenly. He did not call him Lord, Catelyn realized, he should have. Though Tywin Lannister still lived, it was customary for the sons of a Lord Paramount to be called Lord. _He may not know that, my husband does not know the South._ Lannister gave no indication that he realized the slight, but Catelyn saw Lysa's grin twitch and turn sour for a moment before resuming the smile.

"My host will gladly take that hospitality, they have ridden a long way through your vast lands. Lady Lannister has petitioned this trip for some time, to see her sister and for cousins to meet cousins."

Lysa stepped forward proudly. "If I may my Lord" Lannister nodded. Lysa outstretched her arms and Catelyn met halfway to embrace her. Cat faintly heard Lysa breath in her ear "What good fortune I have had sister." They pulled away and Cat's head was spinning so that she could barely hear what her husband and Lannister spoke of right next to her. She was focused enough when Lannister kissed her fingers with assured grace.

"Lady Catelyn, it has been a long time. We were merely children then. It is good to see you well. " The attention was considerate. Lucien and she had met when he was 10 and she 12 at Riverrun. Her main focus however had been towards his brother Jaime, an older and more handsome boy who was the heir at the time. As a child he was handsome, but Lucien had always physically looked secondary to his older extremely attractive siblings. _How time has changed, the Kingslayer as my potential husband._

Catelyn thanked him gracefully and he moved on to beckoning the Lannister children foreword to be introduced,

"My son and heir Gerrion. Even now at age 12, word of his skill with a sword has spread"

Lannister was proud but restrained, however his son was open in his arrogance and reveled in the praise of his father. He looked much like his father or rather how Catelyn remembered Lucien looked as a boy before he attained scars of battle, although he had Lysa's long ears, blue eyes, and slightly sunken cheeks. If he wasn't the son of a powerful house he would have been mocked for those ears as some girls mocked Lysa as a young girl behind her back. Catelyn got a feeling that a member of House Lannister would not tolerate such slights. Though not a man, the boy seemed physically fit beyond his years.

"I'm eager to see the men at arms here, learn how the Northern kingdom hunts and fights. Always open to new experiences." Gerrion said, his voice polite but eyes betraying condescension. _He was raised in wealth, he must think us lowlifes who could teach him tricks for his amusement_.

Gerrion kissed her hand, "A pleasure to meet you Aunt Catelyn" But he did not linger and he soon moved down the line of Starks to speak with Robb who he focused on and subsequently her other children.

The eldest daughter now stood in front of them, Lannister put his hands on her shoulders. She was attractive for a young girl and her scarlet dress gave her a radiant presence. She looked very much a Lannister. Catelyn struggled to find any hint of Tully features on the girl. Philippa smiled a courteous smile. A smile that Catelyn was sure got her whatever she wanted.

"My eldest daughter, Philippa. 10 years, nearly an age of your own daughter, Sansa, I see your daughter also wears a southern style. They will make quick friends." Catelyn caught Sansa beaming in her peripherals, it was a dream come true for her to spend time with a southern girl.

"Certainly, Lord Father, My ladies and I are eagerly waiting to share time with my cousins"

By 'my ladies' she obviously referred to the handful of girls that had exited the large carriage. Most looked to be from the Westerlands and were dressed richly. _Sansa will be swallowed up in this allure. She will beg Eddard to take her South._

Three more girls followed. Sile was 8 years old and had the auburn hair of her mother. It stood out among the golden heads that surrounded her. She imitated Philippa and filed suit with her previous siblings. Jainefer was 6, but it was clear she would be very pretty possibly more so then Philippa. She reminded Catelyn of the one time she had met Lucien Lannister's sister Cersei. Pure Lannister hair and a young face that would undoubtable turn very comely. It seemed the only major difference between her and her older sister was the blue eyes on the younger. If not for age they could be mistaken for one another. Of the sisters, Jainefer seemed the most genuine to Catelyn. Then again she was younger and innocent. Philippa and Sile both had smiles, but Catelyn doubted their sincerity. Winterfell was no Casterly Rock in their eyes. _They had better treat my children right._

The last Lannister to be introduced was three year old Tristifer, who was led by the hand by a servant to Lysa's side. The little girl looked a true Tully, the only change was the green Lannister eyes shared by Philippa and Sile. The little girl pointed at Catelyn "My hair" then at Sansa "There mother, my hair" Catelyn could not contain a smile, even Eddard who was stone faced throughout the entire affair seemed to be amused.

"It is rude to point Tristifer" her mother stated. "Greet your cousins, come along." It seemed she didn't want her sister to greet the girl.

Lannister whispered to Eddard so softly, Catelyn, who was standing right next to him, could barely hear.

"Ignore Lady Lysa's curtness Lord Stark, she dotes on the girl. It's the Tully look."

He leaned backward and addressed Stark normally as if he had said nothing at all previously. From a distance it would seem he hadn't spoken.

"Lord Hoster's daughters have served us well Lord Stark. Many healthy children, a strong future." He motioned to introduce his self to each Stark child. Despite it being Lord Stark's home, Lannister had assumed control over the courtyard. No one else in the entire area spoke as he appraised each child. _He's presuming authority, taking charge in these proceedings._

"Robb, the heir and future of the North. Named after our great king no doubt. And looks like he lives up to the name." Lannister shook Robbs hand and Catelyn could see how tightly Lannister shook her son's hand. "And a strong one, a tough boy for a tough land. You'll meet my son in the yard and nowhere else, he is eager and rarely challenged by a boy around his age."

To her relief Robb answered appropriately given the circumstance "Gerrion and I are agreed to combined training and sparring. Ser Rodrick is an excellent man at arms, your son will be in good hands."

"And will those hands or yours harm my son in the yard?"

"Gerrion all but ordered me to strike him should he leave an opening. Do you wish otherwise Lord Lannister?"

"If you have the opportunity to teach him anything ensure the mistake is a vivid memory. Humility is difficult to teach to the gifted. Men must be strong and endure when struck" _Humility is clearly not a virtue you have learned Lord Lannister._ Lannister looked Rob Stark, a boy of 14, over then nodded.

"Good, and so courteous for a young man. I will follow your pursuits with great interest."

Ned's expression remained nearly unreadable, he hid his emotions well but she knew him better. She held his arm in an attempt to sooth him from his growing uneasiness. I pray _emotions will not boil over when they are alone. Sansa's look of longing and Bran's amazement with the Southern knights. He's making an impact on the children. Her motherly instincts had kicked in with Ned's fears as well and she prayed her suspicions were unfounded._

She watched Lannister kiss her 11 year old daughters fingers and she felt an instinctive need to throttle the wealthy pompous prick in that moment despite how ridiculous the action would be. "This must be Lady Sansa, the southern hairstyle suits you. Philippa, Sile, and their ladies can show you many more. The south beckons, you would fit in perfectly." To her dismay Catelyn could not recall a time when Sansa had looked happier.

"You are too kind Lord Lannister"

"I only say the truth. It is refreshing to be accused of kindness"

His bannermen laughed heartily and Sansa gave a small laugh with them. Lannister gave her a hint of a smile and moved on.

He came to a stop at her daughter Arya. At 9 years old she was willful and borderline reckless. _Please Arya, play along as I told you and you'll never hold his attention again._

"A definite Stark look, your name my lady?"

Arya stared defiantly at one of the most powerful men in Westeros.

"I am not a lady."

 _Oh Gods No No NO!_

"Arya!" Catelyn and Sansa said simultaneously. "Lord Lucien, please forgive her she means no disrespect." Catelyn implored. Sansa looked affronted. _This is an experience she has dreamed of, now she fears her sister will ruin it. Cat's fear was different, the piercing green eyes of Lucien Lannister was on her daughter, and she could tell by his expression he was truly interested now. He looked very amused._ He looked over Arya's dress that Catelyn had forced her into.

"It's quite alright. My sincere apologies, your name good Ser?"

Everyone within earshot, save Cat and Ned laughed. Lysa laughed the hardest and Theon Greyjoy was close to tears. Sansa who was previously angry laughed along after she heard the Lannisters laughing, in hopes of humor diffusing the situation. Even Robb despite himself had to stifle and hide a grin before quickly recovering. Cat noticed that Lord Lannister did not laugh, instead he was staring very intently.

 _He's testing her like he tested Robb, gouging her reaction, will she slink back or own up to her words._

"Arya, apologize to Ser Lannister" Eddard said.

Arya glared at her father "I shouldn't lie, I am not a lady" She turned her attention back to Lucien Lannister

"I am a Ser, will be. Ser Arya Stark of Winterfell. A knight more famous than you."

That got another round of laughter, louder than the first. Cat wanted to grab her and take her elsewhere, anywhere. But she could only watch.

"You would be the most honest knight that has ever lived. When that day comes I shall knight you myself. You have such passion. Find time to join me in the training yard and that passion can become a reality."

Arya looked mischievous, happy with this obvious false proposal, seeing both of her daughters seemingly idolize this man was too much. At long last he moved on. Though Arya's eyes followed him. Lannister greeted Bran, who seemed star struck, without incident and gave 4 year old Rickon no more mind then to ruffle his hair as if the boy were a dog.

The group dispersed and everyone began preparing for the coming feast while the travelers settled in. Cat caught Arya by the back of her dress before she could run off. She and Eddard wordlessly agreed, they needed to talk with the children.

Out of Catelyn's earshot, Lysa addressed her husband "Where is your brother? He's a Lannister the little man should be here."

He sneered "No doubt seeking a northern whore as we speak. Pay him no mind, I will deal with him."

Lysa swept her eyes over the towers of Winterfell "A quaint little castle, though the people seem a bit dour, except for the little Stark girl."

Lucien threatened a smile, not quite but almost "She has spirit."

"Spirit, Ha, no my Lord, she has fire. Give her a few years they won't be able to force a dress on her. She'll trample the men who try underfoot."

Lucien chuckled "An adorable dilemma for them" He extended his arm and led his wife across the courtyard "Let us be settled in, and see what the Starks are made of."


	4. Eddard I

**Eddard**

Gods what a disaster. For that display all he wanted to do was hold his head in his hands. But he was a Lord and a father. He needed to look his family straight in the eye. The entire family save for Rickon, who was too young, and Jon, who Catelyn would not tolerate, was in his solar. He sat at his desk with his wife at his side. He wore his Lord's face though it only seemed to affect Robb and Bran who stared silently.

"Be seated" Eddard commanded.

Sansa was incredulous. Frantically trying to determine why an issue existed. "Father, why are you punishing us all. Arya should be the only one in this room it was perfect until she spoke" Sansa all but wailed.

Before Arya could respond Eddard spoke authoritatively "Sit down, all of you, now."

They sat. But Arya had a look of defiance that Eddard hated. Sansa looked close to tears.

"This is not punishment. I am educating you, all of you. Some of the blame lies on me. I should have had this talk collectively before the Lannisters arrived. I should have prepared you all better."

"Father…" Sansa began

"Let your father finish Sansa this is important" Catelyn said sternly.

He would need to explain why the Lannisters were here. The children needed to know this was not a casual visit. "It is a significant distance from here to Casterly Rock. This trip is not without reason. Lucien Lannister would not have come here with a great host and all his children if your' Aunt Lysa simply wished to meet you all. He is likely here on orders from his father, Lord Paramount Tywin Lannister. What he wants I cannot say. You must be courteous and complimentary all of you. But be wary of Lucien Lannister and use your heads when speaking to your cousins. He may be your Uncle, but he is no friend of the North, this House, or you. None of you have seen a Southern host before, don't be entranced by his knights and gold."

Bran, his 8 year old son looked bewildered. "Father…" he said in a week voice. Eddard urged him to continue. "Our uncle is a knight, we can't trust him? Knights are honorable and kind. And he said nice things to all of us. You had told us he would be cold, but he was happy to see us. Isn't he family?" His young face still held innocence, all his life he had read about knights and now he had finally saw one. He was under the impression that all knights were brave and valiant, and so his Uncle must be.

Catelyn replied lightly to her son. "Lannister is married to my sister. That makes him related Brandon. But the south is different from the North. The Lannisters are very different from the people you are used to.

Ned addressed his son.

"Lucien Lannister is your uncle and he is a knight. Knights should be honorable Brandon, but not all are. Armor, sword, and a title does not make a man honorable. He may have smiled at all of you, but he smiles at very few. He is called the Butcher of Harlow. During the Greyjoy Rebellion he ordered the death of every person in Harlow Castle on the Iron Isles. Including old men, women, and children younger than all of you." He suggested that Theon, a boy of 9 at the time, be hung in the presence of Balon Greyjoy, his father, for the crime of being his son. And that Balon be burned like the Lannister fleet had been burned on Balon's orders. A knight must kill, I have killed. But never cruelly and never commit to the deaths of children. Lucien Lannister is not a kind man Bran, nor a true knight."

There was an eerie silence. Robb was angry hearing how his friend Theon had been casually considered to be killed.

Then Sansa stood up. Her face was flushed and her tone of voice held conviction. You would have thought she knew Lucien Lannister all her life the way she rushed to his defense. "The Greyjoys were traitors Father. They rebelled and you attacked them as well. What if they attacked again later? Lord Lucien and our cousins were kind to all of us. The only one deserving a rebuke is Arya and yourself Father. You were not courteous, did not address him as Lord. He is the son of a Lord Paramount, every son of a Lord Paramount is already a Lord and should be addressed as such."

Cat was outraged "Don't you dare speak to your Father that way young lady!"

Ned sighed. This was the last situation he wanted. The desk that he was seated behind seemed to grow several meters in area. He felt visibly separated from his children, the daughters especially. "Better to get feelings in the open behind closed doors then bottled up ready to burst. What treason did the children in Harlow Castle commit?

"They would be raised to be raiders and murderers! Evil people!" Sansa all but spat. There was a glint in her eyes. She seemed to be searching for solutions to exonerate the visitors from the South that she yearned to see. Even if it meant condemning an entire area and its people.

"They had committed no such acts. Not every person on the iron isles has done such things. Such prejudices are unhealthy."

Sansa looked as if she would say something more, but she flushed instead and she sat down slowly. Arya glared daggers at her sister. Bran seemed to find an interest on the floor and Robb looked disappointed.

"You are correct in one thing. I should have referred to him as Lord. Despite his actions he was born into that position and owed that title. Your mother corrected my mistake. I have traveled south only twice and am unfamiliar with formal terminology. I was ignorant which caused a mistake. But there is a difference between a sin of ignorance and a sin of intent. I sat us here together because I care for us all. We are a pack and together a pack survives. Perhaps Lucien Lannister means no ill will. But be guarded and do not be swayed by Lannister promises. If any Lannister asks anything of you, you must tell me. If you have questions you must ask them now."

Sansa looked sullen. Bran still looked confused but stayed silent. He was bold when climbing walls, but shy in conversation. Arya began to join Bran in looking at the floor. They hardly looked a strong pack. _Have I failed as a father? Have I been so focused on my duties as Warden of the North that the slightest conflict would undue this family?_

Robb was mature and looked at his father attentively and with concern. "How must I handle my interactions with Gerrion Lannister, father? He has taken an interest in me, seemed to be chewing at the bit to join me in the yard."

A civil exchange was most welcome "Train, spar, and talk with him. Be cautious, his father would not have boasted if the boy's talent was false. He is an honored guest, treat him with courtesy as I know you would. But if he asks anything of you or makes any promise, seems to be speaking with his father's voice, let me know son."

Robb nodded "Yes Father."

Eddard addressed Arya and she stared at him indignantly.

"Arya, I do not have to tell you that your conduct in the yard was grossly inappropriate."

She chewed her lip, she always did that when she was nervous, yet she tried to be brave and express what she saw as right. "Father, you told me to never lie. To be honest, and he thought me a lady. I will not lie to him."

Catelyn stepped in "You are Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell and that title should imply dignity. Even if it were not true in your eyes, it is better to hold your tongue and think of the consequences of your actions before you speak."

Ned was grateful of the intercession "Listen to your mother, it is wise advice. Do not speak to Lord Lucien Lannister unless you are directly addressed. If you are, you will courteously reply and keep the conversation civil. His words of meeting you in the yard were in jest. But should he act on them I forbid you from joining him. Am I perfectly clear?"

Arya jumped out of her chair and stood on it with as much rage as 9 year old could muster. She was shaking with rage as if her very character had been assaulted. In that moment, Ned was reminded of his late sister Lyanna, who looked very much like Arya and was thought to have the 'wolf's blood' as Eddard's father had called it. That quality served no constructive purpose here. Everyone was taken aback by the ferocity of the outburst.

" **HE DID NOT JEST! HE BLOODY WELL MEANT IT. HE SAW I WILL BE A KNIGHT, YOU WON'T, BUT HE DID."**

" **ARYA CLIMB DOWN AND APOLOGIZE. YOU DO NOT SPEAK AND ACT THIS WAY!"** Catelyn was aghast

" **I WILL NOT HAVE THIS FAMILY TORN APART OVER THIS! ARYA SIT DOWN!"** Eddard ordered.

Once full of spirit, she was after all a girl not quite ten. She meekly took a seat in the face of her father's rage.

Eddard calmed himself, not wishing his children to see and think of himself this way. _DAMN YOU LANNISTER. YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED SOUTH BATHED IN YOUR GOLD... not interfering with my family._

"All of you, get dressed and be ready to greet our guests. Everyone will be on their best behavior. Arya stay."

His children filed out nervously, shooting glances at Ned's youngest daughter as they left. All but Sansa who did not spare a glance her sister's way. Arya was calm and stared defiantly at her lord father.

"This cannot continue Arya, you will not provoke anyone tonight, else this will be a regular occurrence. Swear it to me."

"I swear by the old gods, I will obey father."

Eddard gave his silent prayer to the old gods that those words were true.


	5. Sansa I Catelyn II

**Sansa**

The welcoming feast was an incredible affair, in Sansa's eyes. Never before had Winterfell looked so grand, a true spectacle. She prepared to enter the main hall arm in arm with Gerrion Lannister and prayed to the seven for everything to work out smoothly.

Her Aunt had gone ahead of her arm in arm with her Lord Father. She wore another dress just as beautiful as the first. Her hair in another style, different jewelry. She seemed to light up the room, contrasting the more muted colors of northern decoration. Eddard Stark carried a warmer look than she had predicted he would. Perhaps it was for show.

Next, her Lord Uncle arm in arm with her mother. Then, she was next and entered the hall with hosts of Stark and Lannister men applauding her.

"Look at them all, all this for us." Gerrion whispered in her ear, but she prevented herself from blushing as red as the crimson cloak that he wore. She knew that was not true, why would they be interested in her? They simply wanted to feast.

Following her, Robb was with Lady Philippa. Robb was doing his best to imitate his father and looked everything like a young man should. Assured, confident, but graceful to a degree.

The younger Lannister girl, Sile was arm in arm with Bran. Bran seemed to be the perfect gentlemen for being so young. She pulled her gaze away so as to not see Arya approaching, afraid of what she might see. It was fortunate in the given circumstances, as Sansa had initially feared that Lannister would have wanted Tyrion, his brother, as part of the procession. Luckly it was not the case and the Lannisters had found someone else to accompany Arya. The great hall was large and it took a while to reach the dais, which was set for the members of the two families.

The applause died when they all reached the dais and the food began. It was a good feast, with various courses available. But, the best part for Sansa was the singers. She had adored the singer that came to Winterfell in the last year and Lysa had brought three with her. They sang a diverse range of songs. New ones that Sansa had not heard and they sang perfectly all night long. She spent the majority of the time speaking with Philippa and Sile. She wished to emulate the southern girls as closely as possible without seeming stupid or desperate . They sampled each dish out of politeness but took small portions so that they ate very little. It was difficult to use such restraint, the tender meats, pronounced spices, and juicy fruits that melted in the mouth were better than the usual fare that Sansa was used to. She probed them politely for any information of the South. They in turn described a paradise.

"Father and Grandfather are the richest men in the seven kingdoms. Lannisters have more than others, but even the serving girls of Casterly Rock are treated royally. It is an honor to serve there. There are few poor girls in Lannisport after mother established several orphanages. Lord Tywin rules well and all who serve him prosper."

She attempted to gain the attention of Gerrion, but it seemed he only truly cared about speaking to Robb. Talk of swordplay, technique, and similar topics that were of no interest to her.

Sansa turned her eyes towards her own Lord Father. His face betraying absolutely nothing. Lucien Lannister held an expression of relaxation and comfort. They sat apart from one another so that their wives could be seated together. That suited them just fine and they were silent for the large majority of the feast.

While he was relaxed, every once in a while, Lord Lannister's eyes would flash down the table in the direction of his brother Tyrion, the Imp, who was drinking heavily. It was as if he anticipated trouble from that direction. Sansa thanked the gods that she was seated away from the dwarf. His face was grotesque, legs stunted, and mismatched eyes unsettling. Sansa pitied the little man _. How could the Gods have been so angered to place such a curse on a man?_

Lucien Lannister ate anything that was placed in front of him, but when the serving girl tried to refill Lannister's wine glass he waved her off and took water instead.

"Not fond of wine Lord Lucien?" Catelyn inquired politely.

"Only in moderation Lady Catelyn, it dulls the senses of the best of us."

Lucien's dwarf brother must have exceptional hearing because he laughed. He had been talking with Arya all night and was drunk already and it was beginning to loosen his tongue. As distasteful as it was, it kept Arya's attention away from everyone else at the very least. The dwarf began to leave the dias, but not before he directed his attention at his brother just loud enough for Sansa to barely hear him "Nonsense, in my experience it enhances them. Bah, come on brother, partake a bit. Drink, be merry. Come now, crack a smile."

Lucien remained calm and disregarded him. Tyrion didn't care and began to waddle away, drinking as he went. _Why is the Imp here? His brother clearly does not like him._

The rest of the feast passed without great incident and Sansa found she enjoyed it all. Speaking with the Lannister girls was everything she hoped it would be, and despite Gerrion's inattentiveness she didn't allow herself to sour over a missed opportunity. Pouting would not accomplish anything.

As the night wore on, drunk men on the lower tables began a jig to the tune of the songs that were played, which was quite amusing. Until the 'The Reins of Castamere' was played. The Lannister men cheered, but it was impossible to dance to that tune. It was at that time that Sansa's father rose from his seat and addressed the hall, the final lines of 'The Reins of Castamere' faded away.

"Men of the Westerlands; Lords, Knights, Soldiers, and squires. May you enjoy the rest of the night's festivities and experience the hospitality of Winterfell. It is an honor to receive such distinguished guests."

The crowd cheered at the words fueled by wine and meed, raising food and drink in merriment. Feasts were rare, it was a time of great revelry.

Lucien Lannister addressed his hosts quietly and privately, yet Sansa was seated close enough to overhear. "An impressive feast, Lord and Lady Stark. Allow me to find appropriate items to compensate you for this expense. Your control over the largest of the seven kingdoms is impressive and appreciated. You hold the great respect of your people."

He raised a glass of water and spoke loudly for the whole room to hear. "To your health fine Northmen, your children, and the future of the Great North!"

Both families repeated the gesture and drank. Select members of the crowd were beginning to show signs of intense drunkenness and loudly cheered and chanted their Lord's names.

"Lannister!"

"Stark"

"Lannister"

"Stark"

"Lannister"

"Stark"

 _This is how it should be_ , thought Sansa. Two great houses united. Throughout the hall men laughed and drank themselves under the table. Exchanging stories of battles, differing lifestyles, and many stories that were not so innocent. _Together we can be strong._

Lord Lannister extended his hand to Lord Stark and they shook, inspiring another cheer form the crowd. They looked like powerful men from different worlds colliding.

"And to your own children as well my Lord, and your future child. I am pregnant." Lysa announced. The table applauded and Lannister nodded flashing his wife a smile.

"Congratulations sister. You have raised such fine children, it is a blessing to have another" Catelyn stated. Eddard and Sansa gave similar statements.

"Let us hope it is a son." Lucien said simply.

Sansa loved her family, her outburst in the solar suggested otherwise but she truly did. She was simply caught up in the moment, she saw that now after she had calmed down. Before the feast, she had met with her father and mother privately and apologized. They had done so much for her over the years, they had not earned such disrespect. And yet there was a part of her, a selfish part, which found herself jealous of that unborn child. She did not like it, but it was there. _Let me come South, it is where I belong._

 **Catelyn**

Finally they were alone in a spacious antechamber. Absolute privacy, no doubt that Lysa had waited for this moment for years. It seemed difficult for Cat to get any substantial words out. _Whose tongue tied and awkward now? Lysa had stuttered as a girl, no doubt she would enjoy me fumbling around._

Lysa had sat proudly with her fine dress and jewelry at the feast. But now she and Catelyn were wrapped in furs in front of a burning fire. They had been indoors, but northern chills seemed to sweep indoors, as Catelyn had found out in the first years she had been North. Lysa must have been freezing in that dress, yet she had worn it all the same. _If I had such possessions, would I not do the same?_

There was something odd about the location, as if they were young again and gossiping about whatever small matter was of attention in those days. It seemed a lifetime ago. It may as well have been, they both had new lives now.

Catelyn had dreaded these coming moments since the courtyard, but the conversation thus far had been cordial, pleasant, like she had a sister again.

"How long have you known?"

"The maester confirmed the coming babe one moon ago, just before we departed. Not that I needed an old man to tell me anything, I have carried my fair share. One after the other, an entire Lannister dynasty in the works."

"I am sure they have brightened Casterly Rock over the years. Winterfell had not seen a Lord's child in years before mine came. The laughter seamed to melt the ice and made the foreign land seem less alien, before it became home."

Lysa smiled, there was still a hint of arrogance from the courtyard but it was dimmed significantly. "Much the same, Lord Tywin's presence is enough to send a chill colder than anything here. Happy young children have balanced it out."

Catelyn just wanted to relax, but her mind would not let her. _This is going almost too well. Can I not simply enjoy my sister's company without thinking of every little thing? It's the smile in the courtyard that is the source of my unease, perhaps I misread it. Or perhaps a fleeting desire that is not a true representation of her._

Lysa shifted the furs and traced the linings around her growing babe. "I have found children to be the main source of any happiness, and yet we must let them go. Our own boys will be fighting one another in the yard. Our daughters singing each other sweet songs."

"I am relieved to see you so content Lysa, every night I prayed for your happiness."

Lysa chuckled, if she were younger it would have been that ridiculous giggle that Cat found she sorely missed. "Married to a Lannister, I know it seemed daunting. You have heard stories I am sure, that my husband is as pragmatic as his father. He is, but the difference is that he loves his children while also crushing his enemies. Everything a man must be able to do."

Catelyn needed to dig in more "Was it warm immediately? Is he kind to you specifically?"

"No not initially, when I was married I was a silly little brat who needed to mature quickly. I can still recite the lines he used to lecture me with on our wedding night. Yet I remember his smile when I handed him our newborn son, how eagerly he returned after nearly dying to the Iron Islanders. His respect after I managed several orphanages in Lannisport and grew into a leadership position. Part of the guard you witnessed were young boys whom I saved off the streets years ago. Over time, Lord Lannister began to mean everything."

"Most arranged marriages are not so fortunate, we have been blessed."

Catelyn was taken aback when her sister reached out to touch her shoulder, "You will permit me my few moments of gloating I hope, sister. A bit petty perhaps, but I was always second rate as a girl in Riverrun. My new House has given me a future, forced me to change for the better. But I have not forgotten our old family words."

"Family, Duty, Honor." They both repeated. There was a strange sadness in both their voices.

Lysa continued but her voice seemed much more serious, "You are family sister, but Lord Stark is not to me, nor is Lord Lannister to you. Our new houses mix like water and wildfire."

There was no need to deny that. "You could not be more correct. Right now, our husbands are no doubt gritting their teeth and summoning all the restraint they possess not to curse one another."

Lysa nodded, "You understand. It is best they do not interact at all, but in this moment they must. You must be by your husband's side. You must ensure he listens to what Lord Lannister has to say."

Lysa's tone seemed desperate in the final words. It was not pleading, but it was not without emotion either. Goosebumps crawled up Catelyn's arms and her throat seemed dry. "What is so dire sister?"

"That is your husband's place to tell you. He will know after tonight. If he does not, then I will share with you."

Lysa then leaned in close "What kind of man is your husband? Is he uncouth? Brutish like I have been told, as I believed for so long? Or are they as false as the tales about my own man?"

 _She cannot be faking this, she truly fears for me._

"He is everything I could have hoped he would be."

Lysa looked skeptical but let it go "I am also relieved with your happiness. For many years I despised you, but young hatreds wash away" Catelyn had anticipated a retort and acknowledgment of Stark's bastard. But the words never left her sister's lips. Perhaps she ultimately decided not to stoke that fire.

Relieved Catelyn responded, "We were sent to the polar opposite of Westerosi culture. But we have both made due."

"I wish it to continue. Tell me Cat, what is the most important thing to you in this world?"

The answer was automatic "My children."

"Then despite all the superficial differences, we are the same. It should be any mother's choice." Lysa leveled her gaze with a powerful look before continuing. It had a strange pull that gave Catelyn tunnel vision, causing nothing else in the world to matter in that moment except for what her sister had to say.

"We will always support our children and ensure we do all we can to protect them from this harsh world we all live in. We must stand by them in any strife against any threat. Children mean everything, because they force our choices upon us."


	6. Eddard II

**Eddard**

They were alone in the solar that had served Stark patriarchs for generations. Yet few meetings in this room were as tense as this one. Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Lucien Lannister. Eddard yearned for Catelyn's company in such times. Even just her presence would be preferable. But Cat was entertaining Lysa alone tonight. Based on Lysa's smile in the courtyard he could only imagine how that meeting would go. _About as well as this meeting will go no doubt._ _Yet this man has done no ill will here, speaking with him should not be so difficult._

"Wine Lord Lannister?" It was a futile gesture, but he would extend it anyway.

Lannister was not having any of it and spoke casually yet bluntly. The man carried the relaxed look from the feast, but he was undoubtedly alert. _This is why he did not drink, he wanted his wits with him tonight._ "You may cease with veiled courtesy, remove any restraint. Man to man. Speak plainly."

 _Is it your intention to start a fight?_ "Very well Lord Lucien, if you wish to be forward. Your attention towards my children is unnecessary, there is no benefit from it." Stark replied, trying to place his words carefully yet firmly.

Lucien's face portrayed casual innocence and bafflement. "What angered you? Asking for their name? That was all I did to set the young one off. It appears you spared the rod on your little girl."

For a long moment, they simply looked at one another until he continued. "I am simply doting on my nephews and nieces. Children brighten this dark world. The younger ones are so innocent and full of hope. They are eager for encouragement and praise."

 _That was said too casually, nearly sarcastically. Either you are mocking or you are lying. Cease this._ "You said we would speak plain. Do not hold demands of another and ignore them yourself"

That was forward enough. The innocent look fell off of Lannister's face. Before he had the look of a comfortable rich man, but now he showed his other side. The attention that other men feared, the face of a Lord and a killer. Lucien held some of his youthful looks, but in these moments he looked truly ugly. "You think me a beast? Would you have preferred I give them nothing but a cold stare that you are receiving now? A few simple words and a smile gave the younger ones such joy."

Despite Lannisters invitation, he would give measured responses when possible. Yet he would not tolerate blatant slights. Eddard had met a variety of Southeners while fostering in the Vale, but the arrogance of the Lannister House was another experience entirely. They could not be relied on to be truthful. It was many years ago since he had interacted with a Lannister. Nine years ago, it was far easier to plan warfare with Lucien during the rebellion of Balon Greyjoy. But now Lannister clearly wanted something. Jaime Lannister transcended arrogance, and from what Eddard made of Lucien now, the younger brother was more subtle, but easily provoked and just as egregious.

Nothing would be gained with fishing for a motive, it would go nowhere, he needed to reach the bottom line. "Even during the summer the journey north is long and cold for those unaccustomed. What has brought you so far away from Casterly Rock Lord Lucien?"

"I do indeed have a purpose, one of great importance. Tywin Lannister does not send his son lightly." Lucien seemed to relax once more and spoke with a prideful voice. All his life he must have been able to throw around his father's name as if bursting from Tywin Lannister's loins was an accomplishment. _So your words will be his. For all your arrogance, all your reputation, a message boy is all you are for now. Your father sent another son, he could have just as easily done this task without sending a large host with him._

It was almost as if Lannister read his thoughts "But the words are mine. I speak of facts that cannot be ignored. Your opinion of my House will not impact the decision you will make."

"Truly, such confidence?" Eddard found that claim hard to believe.

"Truly, but before we begin, you clearly have strong feelings towards me and House Lannister, do get them off your chest. You were as cold as ice when we slew Ironborn together, yet now you are near red with anger. What about my House appalls you, so that I may lay your concerns to rest?"

 _He cannot stomach his family thought ill of. Even when it constitutes the war crimes that were committed._ Tywin Lannister infamously did not care what anyone thought of him, but it appeared his son wanted to be respected, even by those he considered beneath himself.

"There is nothing to be gained from such a conversation. You have your ways and I mine."

Lannister looked genuinely disappointed. "Truly? Nothing? I must admit I thought you eager for such a sparring."

 _Are you not here to negotiate? Why are you so intent on a confrontation? Do you desire that much to explain your actions, prove you are right?_ At nearly every exchange Eddard found himself holding back the words he wanted to say. Lord Lannister's cruel father, the brutal murder of Elia Martell and her children, the dead women and children in Harlow Castle, the Kingslayer's shattered honor. All these subjects were at the tip of his tongue. But he could ill afford to anger this man too greatly. Lucien would live in his father's shadow as long as Lord Tywin lived, but when that veil was lifted... He had erred unintentionally in the courtyard, began to set boundaries for the meeting here, but he would not purposefully throw stones at a lion.

"Speak plainly as you promised Lord Lannister. Why are you here?"

"I did not trudge through vast lands simply to gloat. This is to your benefit believe it or not. I come with a warning. A stern warning. One you cannot afford to ignore, for it would be devastating to the realm and to you. Jon Aryan is old, he will either soon die or resign. When this happens, King Robert will march and demand you accept to be his Hand in Kings Landing, not because you are suited for the position but because you were raised with him."

If that were true, it would change everything. But how could he be so sure? "You traveled all this way on a supposition and possibility?" _You must have made other arrangements, this cannot be the only reason._ "Lord Lannister, you may have wasted many days on the road for what may not happen."

"With respect Lord Stark, you speak of which you know nothing. The distance shields you from common knowledge at court. King Robert is predictable and he will arrive and demand your office. Refuse him, for if you do not, the realm will be subject to disaster. Your son, promising as he is, is not ready to lead the North in your absence. Who would you name Castellan or adviser to your son? Worthy, ambitious men like Rickard Karstark and Roose Bolton? No, your son would be advised by someone you trust. But ultimately that choice will be too weak for a harsh winter and the North will be weakened in your absence. Much as I disagree with you Lord Stark, I respect good leadership. The North respects and needs you. The South is foreign to you." _I have no desire to go South. But if I must..._ "King Robert is not the man you remember. He is fat and my sister tells me he has attended council meetings 3 times in 15 years."

 _And how does he know of the personality of Karstark and Bolton? He disdains the North but he took the time to understand its Lords. He is invested in this proposal, he believes we would clash in Kings Landing... Robert fat, a drunkard? Last I saw him he was larger, but few men would dare face his wrath._

"Lord Lucien, You speak so casually of our king. What do you hope to achieve with such condescension."

Lannister blatantly ignored Stark's input and showed no respect for the king, his liege. "Jon Aryan cannot get the King's attention to focus on the realm, which is fortunate as his full attention would fuck up the Crown worse than his inattentiveness. The crown's debt rises by the day due to his willful spending."

 _So this is the game you are playing, it seems too transparent_ "And if I refused who would be Hand? Tywin Lannister? Yourself?"

"The King may be married to my sister, but he holds no love for House Lannister. He would appoint a brother of his. If he had any sense he would appoint Lord Tywin. You may be far from Southern Politics, but even you know that to be true. Do not feel obligated to accept in order to protect King Robert. The most danger he is in is when he hunts in the Kingswood of his own volition."

"And you wish it run by your family rather than Jon Aryan. If this slander against King Robert is true…"

"It is not slander if it is the truth."

"Then Robert needs assistance, not to be shoved aside and muted." _Don't give false concern of the North. You simply want your father as Hand so that you can rule the Westerlands prematurely_. _He must be wringing his hands to be over thirty years old, yet remaining subordinate._

Lucien remained calm, though his green, dull eyes were making an attempt to pierce through Eddard's soul. They would not succeed, he would not be so easily provoked.

"You would not do well in Kings Landing Lord Stark, men like Petyr Baelish and the Spider will play you like a harp. With a weak Hand, the men of Kings Landing smell blood."

 _He cannot be respectful for long. Despite his demands, he is blind to his own arrogance_

"All what you have said may be true. But if it is necessary I will do my duty." _My thanks for the impassioned speech, but these facts could have been delivered by raven._ "If this day comes I shall make my decision." _You think me incapable of evaluating proposals?_ "If my decision coincides with Lord Tywin's wishes so be it."

Lucien Lannister rose from his seat and Eddard rose to meet him. He would not be talked down upon in his own castle. Grey eyes rose to meet the green. No overtly harsh words had been publicly shared. Small jabs but no outbursts, no blatant threats. But the air was so thick with anticipated tension a man could practically taste it. It felt as if they were preparing to fight to the death. The wind outside began to howl, as if it were feeding off the men in the nearby tower. The sound of the wind mimicking screams of encouragement for them to engage.

"The health of the realm is a concern of mine, Lord Stark. When Robert Baratheon comes to Winterfell, and he will come mark my words, see for yourself that all I have said is true. He will insist that your Sansa be betrothed to the crown prince as well. Use that information as you will, a token of good faith. Put your feelings aside and truly listen to me. You think me so selfish? That my only attention is my own ambition? I want stability, peace."

 _House Lannister is well known for its placid peaceful demeanor._

"Before Robert arrives take a long look at the North in the meantime Lord Stark. Leave your castle and visit your bannermen and subjects. Look them in the eye, look them all in the eye. Look your wife in the eye. Look at your son, your future for the North and tell them you are needed in Kings Landing in a venture doomed to fail. 'Winter is Coming' the famed words of House Stark. A long one many are saying. If winter arrives and you are in Kings Landing at that time, try to resign and the snow will bury you on the journey home, or the raging seas will threaten to sweep away your ship. If the North is led by a boy then, no matter how promising the boy, his development will be stunted and your people will suffer. You will have accomplished nothing in Kings Landing and the North will be soiled."

 _I don't need a long speech to respond. Only simple words will suffice._ "As I said Lord Lannister, I will do whichever duty is required of me."

Lucien Lannister gave a measured look. "Very well, as you were Lord Stark" he said before finally turning and leaving the solar. His footsteps echoing as he descended the towers steps.

Eddard returned to his seat. Calmly, he took the two glasses that had been left empty and poured them both to the brim. He drank in silence. His world seemed to have been turned upside down. Why would Lannister lie about events that could easily be proven wrong? The proposal for Sansa, the Kings figure, the Office of the Hand.

It was surprisingly liberating to focus on the wine in these brief moments, however brief they were. _He finds the North beneath him, yet he is familiar with Karstark and Bolton. That is unsettling. This proposal means something to him._

He didn't normally like wine, hardly drank at all. Yet now he savored the flavor. He needed a few brief moments of relief tonight. Reigning as Warden of the North was never easy, but the future had become far more complicated.


	7. Lysa I Catelyn III Tyrion I

**Lysa**

"You look quite pleased" Her husband said casually. A wine glass was in his hand. His fingers were constantly flexing and his rings were banging against his cup. She gave him the faintest hint of a smile. "There is no reason not to be."

Lucien swept across the room towards her and the large bed. The Stark patriarch's attitude was cold, but he did not deny his guests suitable accommodations. A tower was reserved for the Lannister family and the bedroom for Lord and Lady Lannister could be considered grand.

"Indeed, a lovely atmosphere. It has a certain charm. You always asked for nights alone in a exotic land...well here we are." Lucien remarked casually glancing about the room. Despite his alcohol consumption he was perfectly articulate. He ensured a firm reputation publicly, but enjoyed himself behind closed doors. Yet even privately, Lucien Lannister never acted a fool. Many accused him of arrogance, but not foolishness.

Lysa had been intent on reading people when she came to Casterly Rock, the first and hardest of all was her Lord Husband. When in front of his men or subjects, and especially other Lords, he was his father's son. Cold, confident, and threatening. But alone with her, once he became comfortable, he let out a more genuine personality. With his boasts and quips he was more similar to his brother Jaime. Perhaps even the dwarf Tyrion, although saying that aloud would not end well. Lysa wondered if this was his true self and the face of the Lord was an act to desperately emulate his father.

"My Lord, it is the people that has made the long journey worthwhile."

"Was it as satisfying as you had hoped?" Lucien looked vaguely amused.

"It is hard to meet the expectations set for so many years… but it was. And now it is done. She is still my sister, and a changed woman."

"Good, the past can be laid to rest. It is the future which is of concern."

"Indeed My Lord, judging by your mood I trust your business with Lord Stark was productive?"

He leaned across the bedpost and gave her a genuine smile. For a moment he looked a young man again. He was cold early in the marriage, but over the years he had lessened his intensity. Their relationship was affectionate and passionate. They did not lay down solely out of duty, but for desire. At times he even played along with her teasing nature. Never in public of course.

"You saw the grave look on Stark's face. He could have been chiseled from stone."

"He was uncourteous?" Lysa said in mock surprise.

"I dealt with him as was required. He is a stubborn man, but perhaps the harsh North needs a stubborn leader. He should stay put. There is no need for him in the south and the future of his house may suffer for it if he travels to the pits of Kings Landing."

The playful nature suddenly got much colder, as if she had been removed from a warm bath to be plunged into an icy river. "That dire of advice? I know you wish them to be away from your work. But, would Kings Landing be that cruel to them?" She obviously knew the purpose of this visit was that meeting, but to hear it spelled out so harshly was unsettling.

Lucien was unconcerned "Eddard Stark would be a complication I do not need, but not unmanageable. Every man has his place, he would be as vulnerable in the South as I would be if I tried to lead the North."

 _I do not know Eddard Stark, but I doubt he will listen to you._ Her husband would be in Kings Landing soon, a part of the crown's debt to House Lannister would be called in at the moon's turn. When the payment couldn't be made, it would be adequate leverage to seat a Lannister on the small council.

"I cannot think of a worse candidate for the Hand." Lysa stated with sincerity. "That position should be yours. All your life you have worked and bled for your House. The recognition for your work is long due."

"The position should be my Father's. It is Casterly Rock I desire with you at my side, and our intelligent children that you are rearing in powerful positions... Not thankless work in that reeking city. But I will do what must be done."

The young girl in her swooned at his praise of her. But she was older and wiser and restrained herself. She would not be distracted from important discussions due to flattery. Every conversation with her husband was important, he told her many things, but she would be a fool to believe he did not have secrets held close to his chest.

"Everything I said was for Stark's personal benefit, Northerners do not fare well in a political landscape. I am saving the man from himself."

Lucien changed the subject by picking up and examining one of the many furs laid across the bed. Lysa found them brutish, but it was clear even to her that the animals must have been prize kills. "These Northmen expect us to sleep with the remains of their hunts? Will this exposure make a savage of you, wife?"

"Never! I prefer gold to fur. I am yours." Lysa insisted. She considered advancing on him. Celebrating with him. But it was his good mood that mystified her. His open confidence immediately after what should have been a frustrating conversation.

Her concern overrode her caution. Lucien had grown to respect her over the years, but she still avoided questioning him if she could avoid it. "My Lord, there was another purpose to the visit. Or something else at play."

He discarded his empty cup and appraised her. Lysa did not believe the wine would loosen his tongue. He was too cleaver for that, and he was currently celebrating something.

"Stark will come to Kings Landing."

The bluntness was shocking and Lysa had to resist staring him down. _Why is he so happy?_ "My Lord, why do you say this so casually?"

"I doubt I could convince this man. Perhaps his wife's pleas may move him, if so that will be to your credit. After measuring him, he is clearly no political threat to House Lannister." Any hint of amusement was long gone and he adopted his customary cold tone that sounded so much like Lord Tywin. "And yes, there are other purposes and events beyond Winterfell worth celebrating. Our legacy has begun, the next generation will be even stronger than the predecessors."

"Are you uniting Gerrion with the Stark girl?"

"Her name is Sansa" Lucien clarified. "You fear a match between them? Such a match would bring the girl to Casterly Rock, Gerrion would remain close, with you. A sweet girl built for the South. You find her unsuitable?"

Lysa stood and approached him close enough to whisper with conviction. "I do not want the Starks near. Better we be permanently separated." _The both of you are too arrogant and prideful to be near each other, utterly incompatible. But I cannot say that outright._ _Wars have broken out over less then squabbling Lords, children caught in the cross-hairs._ "I do not want Northeners in Casterly Rock. Have you instructed Philippa to indulge her? Gerrion to make her swoon?"

Lucien gave her a look that she had interpreted long ago, and it was a look she had never liked. A look that told her he knew something critical that she did not. Those looks did not bother her until the information began involving her children. Matches would be made soon regarding the eldest children and it made her feel helpless knowing that Lucien and Tywin Lannister would be the sole men orchestrating the children's marital fates. Lucien desired good fates for his children, but that did not make the process less tense. For all the respect she had earned, many affairs coordinated by Tywin Lannister with his son were unknown to her.

"If I had given Gerrion such direction he failed miserably, and I gave Philippa no orders, ask her yourself she enjoyed the Stark girl's company tonight. Two kind young girls, it is natural that they be drawn together."

 _I learned long ago that few major developments happen without your will and knowledge my_ _Lord. If Sansa Stark is to be queen, then you would have ensured that your daughter will be in the girl's ear._ There was nothing more that Lysa feared then her sweet little girl being thrust into the game of politics.

"I know they will be drawn together My Lord, that is what concerns me."

"Uncertainty makes you uncomfortable. Understandable, a mother should love her children and wish to protect them. Know that all is under control. Do not fear the influence of the Starks, they cannot threaten us, they have no reason to. For all our disagreements they have no grounds to be our enemy. Besides, even if I were to wish it, Eddard Stark would never accept a Lannister marital match." _Thank the gods for that._

"Yet Sansa Stark is drawn to us." Lysa said.

"I welcome her attraction. From what Philippa has told me, Sansa Stark reminds me of you at a younger age. Appearance and all, and like you she could grow wiser with age. She seems to be a Tully through and through. I would not worry of Stark influence from her, she hardly looks a Stark at all. Perhaps your sister has her own bastard to match her husbands."

That got a laugh out of her despite the circumstances. _I would not blame her if it were true. Why must my sister take that slight and have the product of such so visible and so close._

"Do not fret. Bathe in this opportunity, enjoy yourself. I have a better match for our boy, soon I shall deliver him a lovely rose from the garden. One of many gifts for our children. The realm shall be one body, with us as the heart." Lucien spoke with finality.

Her husband was not usually one for poetic metaphors. That was a literal admission. _A rose...a rose would be preferable._ Internally she still held fears, but she had learned how put on an act. She could fool servants, lords, ladies, and yes at times she told her husband what he wanted to hear.

"Enjoyment is often in short supply, your order will be gladly followed my Lord. Let us celebrate the coming years."

The boasts of her husband still sat in her mind long afterward.

* * *

 **Catelyn**

Her husband was standing solemnly when she arrived to their bedchamber. He looked aloof, frustrated. Finished letters were on the table in the corner, he must have been waiting for her for an uncomfortably long while.

"No blows I hope." Catelyn offered. She said it lightheartedly, hoping to drain some of the foreboding atmosphere that seemed to have swept into the room.

Ned gave a sad smile. "Civilized but only just. Lannister was doing the bidding of his father. He clearly did not want to be here that much was painfully clear."

He looked at her. "Your sister…"

"She is happy, and not unkind when alone with her. Her position is better than I ever dared hope for. Yet I cannot put my fears to rest... My love, she gave me warnings. That you must listen to her husband. I do not doubt the sincerity of those words. It was nearly a plea."

Ned embraced her and it helped for a few moments. She was grateful for the embrace, the unselfish attention. She imagined herself in Lannister crimson, but that could not compare to what she had here. She had not completely accepted the North, nor the North she. Yet she could not imagine life away from her children and Eddard Stark. _Lysa painted a positive picture, but her husband ordered the death of children on the Iron Isles_. _Keep that man as far away as possible._

"Tomorrow my daughters will be with the Lannister girls, my son with the arrogant heir and there is nothing I can do."

"They will be vigilant and there will be nothing to fear." Eddard sounded confident.

"I fear for Sansa the most, that entourage of girls is alluring to her. She won't want to stay in the North, Ned." Ned's facial reaction was apparent at the mention of Sansa.

"What is it Ned...about Sansa...what did Lannister say?"

"One of many things...many claims he made. A warning."

He looked exasperated and tired now. Ned always appeared strong in front of her. He had dealt with harsh Lords of the North on many occasions. The lands and people here caused boys to grow quickly and men to harden. But he had never looked so drained or disturbed. "It wasn't directly tied to what he was arguing, but he mentioned that King Robert wants to marry Prince Joffrey to Sansa."

 _My daughter… a Queen._ She should be elated, but the source of the news made it suspicious, and Kings Landing was very far away. "Is that why Ned? The purpose of this trip is to entice Sansa? To gain favor with a potential queen? He may be mistaken."

"I believe he has ordered his daughter to do so, I doubt his motives overall, but not on this. Why make such a lie? His sister is the queen and Robert has never been subtle... but that may be only a facet of his trip, Cat. It was all about politics. Jon Aryan is old, he won't be able to serve as Robert's Hand much longer. Lannister is convinced Robert will offer me the position. He gave several arguments for why I should not take it. I am not built for the South, therefore the realm would only worsen. The North would be left in the hands of a young boy with older ambitious bannermen. Winter is coming and I am needed in Winterfell, he used my own house words against me. A well prepared speech, but his words will make little matter. I will serve my king and the North, not Lannister whims."

 _Which one will come first if you cannot serve both?_

Catelyn did all she could to appraise this information. The thought of Ned and Sansa far away in the capital was eating away at her, and Lysa's supposed seriousness regarding that information put lumps in her throat.

"The Lannister's arguments are for their own gain, but that doesn't mean that they don't have merit. Enduring a winter without you… You aren't built for politics Ned, you are the North."

"I know Cat, but if the King calls I will need to make a choice. If he offers marriage for Sansa that is not easily refused. Tywin Lannister would not have sent his son and heir on a long journey for a rumor."

"Is this all the doing of Lord Tywin, or is Lord Lucien actively involved?"

"As the son and heir, he is invested. That is beyond all doubt."

He spoke of every detail of his conversation. It was exhaustive. At the end of it Catelyn brought him in close "May Jon Arryn live forever."

Eddard smiled sadly and then kissed her passionately.

* * *

 **Tyrion: The Next Morning**

"Get Up!" He knew that voice. Truth be told that voice was usually not directed at himself, but he had overheard that voice enough while growing up at Casterly Rock. It appeared that his night of wandering the courtyard with drink had left him sprawled across the ground in the kennels. The dogs surrounded him and were licking his face. Slowly he batted them aside, rolled across the ground and gazed up at his brother. The elder was keeping his distance, not wanting to mingle with the dogs.

"Not a lovely view to wake up to, how does Lady Lysa do it?"

Watching Lucien's good looks slowly melt away over the years was satisfying. _What a pair we could make, the two ugly Lannisters._

"Do you share the mentality of a child as well as their stature? Get Up!" The diction on his command was sharp and it pounded Tyrion's head. _Why is it when I escape father and have a chance to travel, I must suffer his second self?_

Although truth be told, this was the longest he had held the attention of his second eldest brother for some time. At most times, Lucien Lannister completely ignored him. The inattention was not unwelcome, he found his elder brother to be dull and irritating. Tyrion had close relationships with his other siblings, either close or hostile. But the other brother garnered no overt reaction towards Tyrion. Perhaps Lucien was reserved in his hostility, though drunken acts at a public feast would likely set him off.

Despite the pounding of his head he rose, preparing himself to meet the gaze of the elder. Yet the effect was diminished as Lucien still towered directly over him.

"Fair warning Imp, keep your tongue sealed when you represent House Lannister, or you will suffer my displeasure."

 _Ah...Imp_. His famous namesake. It seemed most people forgot he had a name. All Father cared about was the image of House Lannister, and every time the family met, Lucien would suck up to his father. That reputation caused the only time Lucien had interceded on his brother's behalf, as twisted as it was.

He was ten and Lucien seventeen. A servant from a lesser branch of a lesser House had degraded Tyrion's appearance too often and too loudly. One day the boy completely vanished, no trace. One look from his brother had told him what had happened and why.

His memory of last night was blurry, but he did remember approaching Lucien at the feast.

"I whispered my words as gently as a lover to you, beloved sibling."

Lucien's face was blank "Do not attempt to be cleaver you idiot, you were drunk. Your voice carried."

 _As if House Stark could care about the words of the Imp. What...did you impress them? Please, they likely curse your name behind your back just as half the realm does._

"Sorry to embarrass you in front of your new friends. I am sure the lot of you will all get along regardless."

He motioned to leave but his brother was in his way and held him steady, Tyrion noticed that no other men were in the vicinity. It was still early in the morning, there was no chance of being overheard.

"Look at you." Lucien brushed straw and dust off of Tyrion's stained doublet with the back of his hand. His voice was dripping with condescension. "Look presentable, is it so much to ask? Mother died for this, a drunken half-man who sleeps with dogs."

 _Yes, he is angry._ Tyrion's own anger naturally rose, his father accused him of this great sin. Of tearing his mother apart. His sister did and now it seemed Lucien did too.

"The bitches I bed are lovelier then these." His brother ignored him as usual and continued,

"I can no longer remember her face…" A hint of emotion crept into Lucien's voice, but it vanished by the time he began to look Tyrion directly in the eyes. "But I must suffer yours. If you cannot contribute to the family, then refrain from straining the work that is being built. Your horse and host are ready, leave immediately and explore this Wall you find so fascinating. Do not linger here."

Tyrion could never physically compete with his brothers. As children, Lucien and Jaime got into fist fights constantly. Some of his earliest memories were his brother's quarrels. When Jaime learned swordsmanship far better than Lucien with half the effort, then that relationship only worsened. But Tyrion had learned to verbally lash back, rather than physically. Lucien hardly ever spoke to him, so he would not miss such an opportunity as this one.

"Then I will be off. I am quite pleased that Father agreed for me to travel, it allowed this excellent bonding time. I will miss the present company, but a frozen wall is preferable…The men there are likely mostly murderers and vagabonds… but I've grown used to the company of murderers."

His brother did not even bother to deny it. Tyrion walked off, taking care to walk a straight line despite his pounding head. Lucien stepped aside and Tyrion marched into the courtyard with a Lord's authority, his blood pumping. Despite his state, he rode out of Winterfell on horseback with dignity.

 _Bring up mother if you wish brother, but by all accounts she was a very loving and sympathetic lady. I would be interested to see which son she would prefer. An Imp, or a ruthless prick._


	8. Robb I Gerrion I Eddard III

**Robb**

"Gods its cold. It is supposed to be bloody summer." Gerrion, the Lannister heir, remarked. He flourished the arrow before notching it in his quiver and taking aim.

Robb regarded the boy carefully. Lannister was only a boy of twelve, two years younger than Robb himself, yet the southerner carried himself like he was the elder among children. _If he asks anything of you, seems to be speaking with his father's voice, let me know_ his father told him. Yet Gerrion Lannister had done no such thing yesterday, the first day in the yard together, and today resembled the last to this point. The boy did not seem to have an agenda except for fighting and training. As well as talking Robb's ear off.

Lannister's interest was obvious during the feast, but they got off to a very bad start the previous day. Lannister had noticed an absence in the yard and was not happy.

"I thought you had a bastard brother. Should he not be present? I was looking forward to sparring with Lord Stark's sons, the both of them."

It was not an unexpected remark, but the boy's haughty tone had set a clear barrier moving forward. Robb and Jon usually sparred together, but Lady Catelyn did not want Jon present in front of the Lannisters and it seems she got her way. _Mother must think Jon's presence an embarrassment in front of Aunt Lysa and her family. As unfair to Jon as that is._

Lannister's arrow lodged itself in the outer section of the target, a decent shot. Gerrion mumbled a curse in frustration.

"A good effort" Theon Greyjoy remarked happily. Robb knew Theon long enough to know that he often gave condescending remarks, but that one was not even hidden. Theon had taken great pleasure at being better at archery than the golden boy. The passive aggressive nature was beginning to show. Considering the brutality Gerrion's father enacted on the Iron Isles, it was very ill advised. The look that Lord Lucien Lannister gave to Greyjoy as they happened to pass previously had been downright chilling. It was as if the Lord was looking at an ant and not a man. _As close as I am to Theon, he should not be here. Jon should be taking his place._ Yet Theon had insisted and here he was.

It was clear Gerrion could not stand archery for very long despite his talent for it. His hands seemed to itch after every release. He looked giddy when he finished, not bothering to collect the arrows that he loosed. _He is used to servants doing those kinds of tasks._

"Get to the sparring, we've waited long enough." Gerrion demanded.

"Patience, it is time but there is no need for demands. Use the wood." Rodrick Cassel, the master at arms, stated.

Gerrion sighed and grabbed the training sword, flourishing it around. "It's too light, you can't train with wood for long and then expect to fight well with steel."

"We shan't be striking one another with steel cousin. I hope you didn't come here simply to hack your hosts to pieces." Robb remarked, hoping to add some levity. Gerrion didn't follow through and instead looked at Theon.

"No, I have respect for the family of a Lord Paramount. But perhaps no one would mourn an Iron Islander. House Lannister has always brought the reavers to their knees to wide approval." The boy smiled with a challenge that Theon Greyjoy would no doubt take due to pride. _Theon will lose_. Theon was five years older than Gerrion, but Robb had an instinct that it would not matter.

"Now you listen here you..." Theon began menacingly.

"You're here to train not beat one another bloody, start with your footwork." Rodrick interjected loudly. He was annoyed and not used to being questioned. The Stark boys had been taught to be respectful and never gave the master at arms trouble.

Gerrion didn't shy away "I tried your footwork yesterday, the footwork my father taught me is far better. Why bother to call it footwork when you Northmen hardly move at all?"

That was a gross simplification, and Robb found himself very annoyed with Lannister. He had been hopeful when hearing the southern host was coming, but the meeting in father's solar had stifled the anticipation and these two days of training had drained it. The air had begun to hold a chill, yet his heart was pumping. Not out of thrill, but anticipation. The boy talked a big game, and he would soon have to back it up.

Rodrick found the strength to hold a biting remark. If Gerrion were not a guest and son of a Lord there would have been hell to pay. Robb could not imagine acting in such an disrespectful way. Instead Rodrick leveled Gerrion with a glare "Then spar, and your form will be evaluated and practiced afterward."

Gerrion smiled. _He must always get his way due to his name, and his mother doesn't seem the sort to deny him anything._ "Come than cousin, about time we had some fun, and you as well Greyjoy." Gerrion said casually as he beckoned the pair forward with the wooden sword.

Robb was taken back, _surely he can't be this arrogant_. "The both of us at once?" he asked apprehensively.

"I told you in the courtyard I wanted a challenge." _He was apprising our form when training yesterday, thinks he can take the two of us based off of simple observation._

Theon could not have been more eager. "All right then boy, back up those words."

Robb thought Rodrick would put a stop to it, but it seemed the man at arms subconsciously wanted the boy brought down a peg.

"Do not aim to injure, or we will stop immediately." Rodrick commented firmly.

Robb did not see a good way this could end. Yes, he did want to kick his cousin's arrogant ass. But what good would that accomplish? And if he lost a two on one spar, it would be a serious wound to anyone's confidence.

Theon practically threw himself at the heir of Casterly Rock, trying to use his larger body weight to overpower the boy. It was very stupid, Robb was not completely ready and Theon had not deigned to inform Robb of this plan. It allowed Gerrion to fight Theon one on one for a time. The powerful swings from Theon made only glancing contact and some blows hit nothing but air. Gerrion was fast and danced out of the way. Lannister chuckled, and than swung quickly with three precise strikes at Theon's midsection. To Theon's credit he was somehow able to bring his wooden sword back and block the blows but it brought him off balance and he almost fell.

Robb was able to quickly relieve Theon and saved him from embarrassment by losing in the opening seconds. He sent quick strikes that he had learned since childhood. For a time he was able to drive Gerrion back, but then Lannister counterattacked and it took all of Robbs training and discipline to turn back the blows. For a boy of twelve, Lannister was shockingly strong. Theon joined and they finally attacked as one against the Lannister heir.

Unfortunately, the boy's arrogance was not misplaced, and Robb could even understand the boy's criticisms about the footwork because damn, he was fast. He moved as fluidly and if he was dancing when on the defense.

Theon was clearly short on patience and that was a critical mistake. Theon wanted to strike faster and harder and he consistently got in Robb's way. It was frustrating. By contrast Gerrion looked like he was having the time of his life. It was clear he spent the entire journey waiting for this moment. He was milking the moment. When exchanging with Robb, Lannister's attacks came hard. But Robb noticed that against Theon, Lannister attacked passively, letting Greyjoy swing at him again and again. Each blow more futile then the last as Theon's initial adrenaline waned and he began to tire.

There was no way to measure time in the heat of the moment, but eventually Robb took a hit to his shoulder, not from Lannister, but from his friend's backswing. It dazed him as Lannister hit him on the leg. The blow was not as hard as he expected. Lannister was not trying to hurt him at all.

Theon put all his weight behind a swing, and like before he hit nothing but air. Robb was too dazed to relive him this time and Lannister smacked Theon across the chest knocking the breath out of him and sending him to the ground in a heap.

"A good effort." Lannister said in the same mocking tone that Theon had given him earlier.

"I yield" Theon spat out, his pride shattered after losing to a boy of twelve.

"Enough!" said Ser Rodrick. "You may continue the sparring at a later date. It seems we need to revisit the basics. The lot of you all need refinement."

Gerrion's irritated face showed what he thought of that statement, but he had the grace to help Theon to his feet. Then his attention turned to Robb. "Well fought cousin, very precise cuts. But the hit was only to your leg. Is that enough?"

"Cousin, we will continue when Ser Rodrick decides…I have not yet yielded." Robb said respectfully but assertively. Internally he was pissed at Theon, _I would have been better off in this spar by myself. Jon and I together could have taken him down._

Gerrion looked elated. "One cut to the leg wouldn't keep a man down, Father said to expect nothing less of a Stark of Winterfell."

Robb now finally noticed the looks of passersby. The intensity of the fight had blocked out surrounding sights and noise. Servants of Winterfell and men from the Westerlands were looking intently, the heirs of Winterfell and Casterly Rock trading strikes would have made for good entertainment. _And they saw me constantly tripping over Theon. Oh joy._ He saw his sister Arya, who should be at her embroidery lesson. She was huddled away in a corner and looked apprehensive for him. Her eyes were wide, the fight must have been a spectacle From a distance, he made out Lord Lannister himself.

Robb's heart seemed to be in his throat, but he pushed it aside. In front of these guests, he could show no weakness. Robb gave Gerrion a nod with the intention of showing respect and Gerrion returned it. They both anticipated when they could clash again.

* * *

 **Gerrion**

"You were toying with the Greyjoy boy."

Gerrion was always unsettled that his father's short sentences could be so intimidating. They were alone in a tower of Winterfell. Lucien Lannister had transformed the highest room from the area into his temporary study. Pieces of parchment took up the near entirety of the desk. They were far away from political affairs, yet his father still worked consistently. _Of course he could not resist watching me fight._

This was how most conversations with his father commenced. Seated opposite, with a desk in between them. From a young age he dreaded these situations. He could be confident in the yard, but he hated how timid he seemed under the gaze of his father.

"I was focused, and yes, also entertained. You know how I enjoy to spar father. Stark and Greyjoy were a challenge. I never held up."

"Do not lie to me Gerrion. I was young once, I know your heart." That sent a chill down the boy's spine. His favorite place was anywhere with a sword in hand, but alone with his father, there was nowhere more unsettling.

"I understand Gerrion, I do. You have had a long journey and wish to make an impression. You took Robb Stark seriously. Fought him well. But the way you handled Greyjoy was inexcusable." His father had a leveled gaze.

Gerrion was baffled. "Greyjoy was made a fool. He could not hope to touch me. He…" the rest of his sentence died on his tongue after staring into his father's eyes. They were not beautiful eyes like his Uncle Jaime's and Aunt Cersei's. They were piercing and dull. Gerrion caught his father in a pleasant mood so rarely, usually only privately when mother was around. But whenever attention had been directed solely upon himself there were only expectations staring at him.

"Provoking Theon Greyjoy was an excellent decision. It caused him to flounder, strike blindly like his mentally deficient kinsman. But even a blinded attacker can be fortunate. You toyed with him, allowed him to linger in the fight. You should have struck him sooner. When your opponent is in open hostility and holds a weapon of any kind, whether literal or political, destroy them in haste. One mistake could bring permanent disaster."

"Our hosts are powerful, yet you flaunt in front of Lord Stark, father. I do not see how…"

He bit his lip hard. For a moment he had forgotten who he was talking to. His tongue had gotten ahead of his head and he feared he had just committed suicide.

Instead no counterattack came. Lucien Lannister was completely calm. "Indeed, it is a weakness of mine. Bathing in good fortune. But Greyjoy was armed. In a real duel it is life and death. The Starks are not enemies, nor friends. Perhaps some hubris does seep in for our current circumstance. Even your Lord Grandfather is affected by family pride to some degree. The power our family brings is addicting. Know your weaknesses and ensure they cannot be exploitable. And never cower and bite your lip, if you believe me a hypocrite stand by your statement."

This was not a conversation he wanted at all. The truth about the sparring was the only way out of the situation. "I could have attacked his ribs at any time, he was swinging wildly and left them exposed, it would have been all too easy. Greyjoy is more a bastard than the true bastard that the Starks seem determined to hide. I wanted him embarrassed, wipe that smirk off his damn face."

His father stood and circled around the desk. Confused, Gerrion remained seated until his father pulled him to his feet and put one arm on his shoulder. "You are young, now is the time to learn these lessons. You have great potential with a sword. The willingness for wisdom and leadership will develop in time. On our return you will go to Kings Landing to squire for a time with Ser Jaime."

Gerrion was stunned. His father always emphasized Gerrion's education and he was regularly tutored by his Grandfather. He learned begrudgingly. It was a chore. Why struggle to read and learn sigils, members of houses, examine battle tactics and how to plan food storage for a winter when he could swing a sword with ease? Let the new child his mother carried be a son. Father was a second son, let the second son continue the family.

"You are so similar to Ser Jaime." His father went on. That was not a compliment from him. "Your education will continue in Kings Landing, but with your potential you will also learn true swordsmanship from one of the most talented swordsman in Westeros. Give that man something to focus on rather than guard the king day and night. It is time he served the family."

Lucien Lannister never referred to Uncle Jaime as his brother. The brotherly relationship with the Kingslayer was cold whenever Gerrion saw them interact, which was not often. Grandfather had mentioned how fiercely competitive the two of them were as children.

Jaime Lannister was the knight that Gerrion imagined himself as. His father was one year younger than Ser Jaime, but due to Lucien's weathered face his father could be mistaken as ten years older. Learning with Ser Jaime rather than Grandfather and Father seemed a gift from the gods. He respected his Father and Grandfather, but he never wanted to become them.

"Ser Jaime has agreed?" Gerrion asked.

"He will." Father's voice held the confidence that the matter was decided.

 _Damn that is cold._ Gerrion's younger sisters were a pleasure to be around. He could not imagine being so cold to his own siblings.

Gerrion summoned up his courage and stared at his father without blinking "I will succeed father, the education and the sword."

The grip on his shoulder tightened, it was uncomfortable being locked in such a strong grip. Perhaps his eyes were betraying him, but Lucien Lannister's expression seemed to soften slightly.

"You are my only son. You are capable of great things. Dynasties have gone to ruin due to a careless attack, one swing of the sword. You are the future, and you will succeed."

Father released him and then seated himself back into his chair. "You are dismissed, your mother is aware of your new position. Share it with your sisters as you please."

Philippa and Sile would miss him in his absence. His other siblings were too young to have a proper reaction. Mother would be distraught, she attempted to smother him constantly, to father's irritation.

"As you command father."

* * *

 **Eddard**

At long last, the day finally arrived for the Lannisters to leave. Five days had not moved fast enough. The gods appeared to have given the foreign host a proper Northern send off. Summer snows were not uncommon in Winterfell. The southerners were perplexed with the occurrence and the younger children were delighted in the foreign experience. Lannister's youngest daughter Tristifer, at age three, was entranced and repeatedly dove into the snow with gleeful laughter. This caused her mother to constantly keep the girl close to ensure the girl did not catch a cold.

Contrasting the childish innocence, the Southern men were furious that the snows coincided with their traveling. Lord Lannister pridefully rode into Winterfell, but he would leave cold and damp.

The cousins had said their goodbyes to each other. Philippa and Sile had embraced Sansa with such genuine fervor, it would have been thought they were truly sisters. The falling snow made the moment look almost magical. They giggled at something that Sansa had whispered in their ear. The girls were disappointed to be separated, that was plain to see.

They had also embraced Arya, who was put out with that sort of attention. Arya had shared with him that the Lannister girls consistently tried to include her in everything they were doing.

"They are nice Father, that is all I can tell you. I wish I could tell you more, but I cannot. That is all they ever did. They just sat and smiled and acted pleasant."

Obviously, they gelled far easier with Sansa, but the attempt had been made to include their other cousin.

In a touching gesture, four year old Rickon had received several wooden toys as a gift. He brought them with him and played with them right there in the snow. Wooden animals, intricately detailed, pranced about each other in the frozen banks.

Robb and Gerrion were talking quietly with each other and shook hands at the end. Robb was hiding his sour feelings towards Gerrion. Ned was well aware of Robb's situation with the boy, and he thought Robb handled the uncomfortable situation well. Ned had seen their last spar for himself and was impressed how well the both of them had fought. The adversity had brought out the best of Robb's swordsmanship in a short time. Jon Snow had helped Robb prepare and on a whole, the competition was beneficial for both combatants. Ned had not wanted to separate Jon from the training yard, but the less experience Jon had with Southerners, the better.

Ned had complemented Robb privately, and he had also made an effort to compliment Gerrion privately as well. No matter the boy's demeanor or name, such skill could not go unacknowledged. The boy could very well become the next Ser Arthur Dayne in terms of skill.

"The pleasure is mine Lord Stark." Gerrion had responded to Eddard. "Your son was a true challenge. Perhaps a tourney competition is in our future someday."

Gerrion gave Theon Greyjoy a mocking salute as the host began to depart. The Greyjoy heir was thoroughly whipped every time they sparred.

Lysa had wasted no time in giving her sister a kiss and saying goodbye to the Stark children.

"Goodbye sister, may fortune continue to favor you. And may wisdom prevail." Lysa had told Catelyn.

Having not packed clothes fully sufficient for the suddenly cold and snowy weather, Lysa retreated for the wheelhouse that would transport her and other women back to Casterly Rock. Catelyn held a forlorn look when the wheelhouse door finally closed and shut off Lysa from her sight.

Lord Lannister remained standing resolutely, yet it was clear he was uncomfortable with the cold. He wore his golden armor which had looked so impressive on the day of his arrival, but today he looked chilled and was probably miserable though he would not permit himself to show it.

 _This is merely a summer snow and Winter Is Coming._

Lannister barked out sharp instructions for his squire to saddle his horse. The boy scrambled to obey and seemed to be stressed, clearly trying to impress his Lord in any task no matter how mundane. The cold being foreign to the boy's fingers did him no favors and the process took far too long. While impatiently waiting, Lannister gazed at Ned, silently inviting him to approach and speak out of other's earshot for one final time.

There was no good reason to ignore the invitation.

"Thank you for your hospitality Lord Stark. I believe all went well."

"The pleasure was all mine Lord Lannister. Safe travels back south."

"Lord Tyrion should return from the Wall and pass through Winterfell within a fortnight. Do treat my brother well. Beef stew with cut carrots and turnips are his favorite, as well as a pair of tits to bury his face in afterwards."

Lannister's words had no humor in them. If there was any, it was extremely dry. It was as if he were reciting facts rather than describing a brother.

"He will be treated as befits his station Lord Lannister, worry not for him." Eddard replied calmly. After days of being on the back foot, today in the cold he felt as if he was in his element.

Lannister loosened his jaw. He had grown stubble during his stay, and the frost was invading the hair on his chin, the small movement shook the flakes of snow off. The white flakes on his face made him look old beyond his years. His son Gerrion had already mounted his horse and seemed eager to depart, he had an eager glint in his eye, as if all his dreams were in front of him.

 _What we would give to be young and eager again._

Lannister's eyes looked past Eddard to sweep over the Stark family, lingered on the two daughters, before resting on Eddard once again. Lannister extended his hand and Eddard shook it.

"Farewell Lord Stark, serve the North well. For the convenience of us both, let us never see one another again."

* * *

 **2 years later**

"I need you Ned."

Here it was, those inevitable words that Lannister had promised two years ago. That King Robert Baratheon would speak. The king had traveled all this way and the proposal was inevitable. They were alone inside the crypts of Winterfell.

The King began to rant. "I've got bloody Lannisters crawling up my arse. Married to one of course…you can imagine how well it has gone. Of course even the children look just like their mother. The Kingslayer is at my side nearly all times, his squire the young Lannister boy heir is an ever present lap dog. Hell, I owe Lord Tywin a King's ransom, used that leverage to put his son on my council, not the funny one either."

Eddard bristled and straightened in attention. _Why am I not surprised._ "Lucien Lannister is on the small council?"

"Aye the bloody rutting bastard, Principal Advisor to the King. Not even a normal title, but I had to relent. To secure it, Cersei outright threatened me with the debt to House Lannister. Every word straight from her father no doubt. To Me! The fucking King! I couldn't do a thing about it.

Robert stopped to catch a breath. "They've got me by the balls Ned, financially. All this fucking intrigue. Wish I could smash the lot of them with my War Hammer."

"You must be cautious Robert, we are not built for these circumstances."

Robert seemed to calm somewhat, but it was always difficult when his rage surfaced. "Your right. But I have no one to trust. I need you Ned, they call themselves Lions, but they are slippery as snakes and if you don't take the Hand I'll have to pin the damn thing on Tywin Lannister. That or settle for someone who cannot run the kingdom properly."

 _You cannot run it properly? You speak as if the Hand is ruling, not aiding you._

Robert continued to rant "Tywin knows this. No one in the Westerlands would defy their liege. Dorne can't be trusted nor the Reach. Mace Tyrell and his prickly mother have never tolerated me and now they have tied themselves with the Lannisters. The Vale is in disarray, everyone eligible is scrambling in the quest to serve Jon's son. Lords in the Riverlands have shown no interest. You are my first choice, but they have not even come forward.

 _No one who is informed wants the position. No one wants to shoulder the burden of the realm. How active are you in ruling my old friend? How bad are things truly Robert?_

"Tywin looming over my shoulder. His spawn: The heir, the Kingslayer, sometimes the Imp, and sweet Cersei. All lurking in my halls. I can't have it Ned, you're my oldest friend, and you've run the North for years. You're qualified, aid me."

 _It seems we are dragging each other down. The capital is sharpening their knives._

"Lord Eddard Stark. I would name you Hand of the King."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in the story.**

 **I started this story on a whim without any expectations at all. It was mostly just something to do in my downtime. I am glad that others are enjoying it and I enjoy writing it as well.**

 **Your reviews are greatly appreciated. I read every single one and carefully consider what they say.**


	9. Philippa I Lysa II

**Philippa**

The days had been long and dreadfully boring. She would have given almost anything to be home at Casterly Rock with her mother and sisters. Yet here she was at the Red Keep, trying her very best not to glaze over in indifference. Even the rich foods had grown stale as she supped with other Lords and Ladies of the court. There were not many of them, as the King had taken the Queen and a host north to Winterfell. It seemed her father was the only person of note who remained in Kings Landing.

Even Tyrion, her favorite uncle, had left.

"Uncle" she had said. "You have just been to Winterfell. Surely you can stay."

Tyrion had given a smile. When she was a young girl he had been so frightening, but as she matured she learned to look past a person's appearance. That was a necessity if she would be living at court for the foreseeable future.

"Alas I fear I cannot. Take care."

"Hurry back at least. I shall despair if I learn that you have lingered at the Wall."

"Do not fret on that. I have been to the Wall. I am in no mood to return there."

How she had wanted to go with him and meet Sansa Stark again. But she was now twelve name days, she would soon be a woman and was accumulating responsibilities. She hoped her father was right that Sansa would be Queen. Even if she would have to marry the little shit Joffrey Baratheon in order to do so. It would be good fortune to have a friend reign as Queen. More enjoyable then her Aunt Cersei holding the position.

Jon Arryan had died seemingly overnight and it made Philippa's role that much more important.

Because she was here for one reason and one reason only, to enchant and gain the ear of Robert Arryn, the new Lord of the Vale. At sixteen the young man had a common look, common mannerisms, common everything. His mother, a former Corbray, had the common look and Robert had inherited it all. That would have been fine, but unfortunately he seemed to regard Philippa dismissively. It was a dismissal that made her father, Lord Lucien irate. Jon Arryn had denied a betrothal attempt between Philippa and Robert, with Jon dead, her father had wished to make the most of the opportunity.

Philippa knew the severity of the task ahead of her and was disappointed in her failure. Her brother was to marry Margery Tyrell. Political moves made by her Father and Grandfather would tie Westeros together into tight political alliances for the next generation. But a portion of the plan had been undone by an idiot boy.

She finally caught the attention of Arryn by placing her hand upon his. He had answered her inquiries all night with short responses as he had had for the last month. She expected little different this time. "Safe journeys to the Vale Lord Arryn. I pray for your health and shall write you frequently."

He looked over to her with a thoroughly bored expression. _Is he as dead as his father? How can he rule with such little conviction?_ "Thank you Lady Philippa, I shall write back as well." _I am sure you will, do you like boys? Is that it?_

Everyone else in her entire life had reacted to her. She was aware how pretty she was. If the attention was not due to that, her relation to the two most feared men in Westeros, her Father and Grandfather, turned heads.

Robert Arryan placed a pathetic kiss on the knuckles of her hand and then left. Philippa had dreamed what it was like to kiss a boy. She had not dared to seek out a suitor other than one her Father had chosen for her. She had practiced with her many ladies that attended her to ensure that she was experienced enough for it to be perfect. However, it had never come to pass and the practice had been far more enjoyable than any peck on the hand.

Across the table her father rose to his feet and began to sweep out into the hall, with nothing left to do she followed him. She passed Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish on her way out, he was moving in the direction of Robert Arryn, presumably to send him off. She always felt uncomfortable in Littlefinger's presence, and he had seemed to be close to Robert Arryn, more so than Robert's own father was. She would have kept her distance even if her father had not warned her to stay away from him.

"Philippa, come to my office before you retire." Her father called out to her. She obeyed her father as she always did.

The office was large and the view from the balcony overlooked the city below. Unfortunately the open air also let in the smell of the city. But after a month, she adapted to the stench.

There was little of note in the room, for a rich man her father was minimalist with his wealth when in his office. The only possession on his desk besides his papers was an old helmet that belonged to the large Barbarian from the Iron Isles that he had killed a decade previously.

Her father pushed her a wine glass that he had filled.

"Father, I have already had a glass at supper."

"And now you shall have a second. You have done all that you could. I do not expect miracles from you. You deserve it, go on."

Philippa smiled, her father could be stern, yet sometimes occasionally sweet in his own way. To her at least. The message was clear, he did not blame her for the Arryn boy's behavior, some fathers would have. Philippa was fairly certain that Lucien had made arrangements that made it impossible for them to be overheard, but to be safe they did not vocalize their anger if they did not have to.

She sipped the wine slowly and gracefully.

"How did a man like I sire such a sweet girl?" He gave her his shade of a smile, the smile he reserved for her. It was the best kept secret between the two of them that Philippa was his favorite child.

"Aunt Cersei gave birth to sweet Myrcella. Anything is possible father." She responded in a joking manner. Her father laughed, to her delight. She always enjoyed listening to his laugh as it was so rare.

"True enough, I know this month has been a bore for you."

"Your lessons have kept me going father."

"And you learn them well. But the lull will subside. This was delivered today."

He handed her a small piece of parchment, it read:

 _Eddard Stark is Hand and the King's host is returning to the Capital. Lady Sansa Stark is betrothed to Prince Joffrey. She and the younger sister are on their way to the capital as well,_

 _Your Humble Servant_

Her heart leapt at the news.

"Do not expect a smooth transition, but I know you will make Lady Sansa welcome, and the Lady Arya as well."

"Of course father, we meet for only a week, and yet cousin Sansa is like a sister to me."

* * *

 **Lysa**

She coddled the boy, her sickly baby boy. At a year old she still cared for him herself whenever possible. The boy had been born feet first, a terrible omen if gossip would be believed. She remembered opening her eyes after the birth to see her husband watching over her, seeing true concern on his face. Perhaps that is what gave her the strength to endure. The maesters warned that she may have difficulty conceiving again, and that any future delivery would be dangerous.

But she had done it, she had birthed a second son. Lucien never vocalized it, but she could tell he was apprehensive for the future. Gerrion was young, talented, but one misfortune and there would be no male heir to his line. There was a harsh stigma associated with continuing through a female line. It couldn't happen, Brynden Lannister must live. Lucien refused to name the boy in the first weeks, he was convinced the child would die.

"The babe will die in the coming days. Do not destroy yourself like before, my love. Do not name it."

They had a son die in the cradle three years previously. Little Tybolt Lannister had barely lived a day and many believed her new son would be the same way. Lysa could not stand it, she begged and then threatened her husband and eventually he relented after a week when the boy was stronger. She chose a name from the Riverlands, Brynden. A strong name, the name of her uncle. It would give the boy strength.

Lysa had prayed, visited the sept, and implored the Mother of the seven gods that the boy may live. _Is this the Gods' wrath for not adhering to them? Lord Tywin ignored the Gods and they cursed him with a dwarf son. Is this Lucien's punishment? Or mine?_ This was to be her last child.

The boy began to fuss, swatting his weak sickly arms at his mother. _Someday those hands will be strong, they will crush many enemies. I know it to be true._

Lucien was in Kings Landing for the last year, and her son Gerrion had been there for the last two years. Even her daughter Philippa was in Kings Landing temporarily. She had warned Lucien not to send Gerrion away, but words would not move him. Lucien had been perfectly clear,

"Kings Landing will make a man of him. He is strong, but yet a boy. I will not have my heir coddled like a babe."

Her babe ceased to fuss and she held him closely before laying him back into the cradle.

"Watch him." Lysa commanded the maidservant as she left the nursery. Her commands were always obeyed. With the name Lannister everyone bowed to you, but over the years Lysa had developed a stern fierce reputation among the servants. Especially when the Lannister children were concerned.

She returned to go over the ledgers with the maester and Lady Genna, Tywin's sister. She had other obligations after all.

But, they were quickly interrupted. "Lady Lysa, Lord Tywin requires an audience with you." A servant reported formally.

"Must he always inquire at the most inopportune of times?" Lady Genna grumbled.

Wordlessly, Lysa swept out of the room. Lord Tywin always left her to her own devices, there was only one reason why he called for her now.

She climbed the high tower to the Lord's office. No matter how many years she had lived at the Rock, Lord Tywin's presence never ceased to unsettle her. But she was no longer a girl, she would not appear meek in his presence. Strength respected strength as long as it was not false.

She knocked sharply.

"Enter." Came the commanding voice from the other side.

Lord Tywin was writing letters. He was always writing, but he stopped when she entered. In previous years he had spoken to her on his own time and continued to work when she was present. But he had stopped that practice. Perhaps it was some small form of respect.

"You requested an audience, My Lord."

"It is your husband who has requested you."

He handed her a letter written in her husband's script,

 _Stark could not resist, he will be Hand. He and his daughters will arrive in Kings Landing within a month. If you wish to see this through Lysa, join me in Kings Landing. Guide our elder children and I will make use of your counsel._

 _Lord Lucien Lannister, Heir of Casterly Rock._

"He made a request, not a demand. My son thinks highly of you." Lord Tywin spoke matter-of-factly. It was impossible to know whether there was approval or disapproval in his voice.

Her husband's letter was phrased as a request, but there was a highly implied expectation of acceptance.

"I live to serve, My Lord. There is no higher honor." _I live for my children and husband, you are just collateral._

"I prefer you to serve in Casterly Rock where your management skills are of use. My son should be able to handle political circumstances himself. But I will not deny him, nor you. The both of you have proven yourselves competent."

An admission of competence was the most to be expected out of him. She hardly interacted with him, her main source of contact with him was through Lucien. Initially she was sure the dopey young girl that she was had irritated him. Now that she was useful he left her alone.

Lord Tywin continued "It is fortunate your fervor has returned. Until Cersei's son sits the Iron Throne, House Lannister must be strong and feared in all aspects to ensure our will is heard and followed."

 _May I not have time to care for my ailing son? If he lives you will use him without giving credit where it is due._

"I am more than able My Lord, but the younger children are not prepared for court."

"My son did not request their arrival, only yours."

She bristled with irritation with Lord Tywin's callousness and Lucien's oversight. Her son could die any day, the younger children did not know a time without their mother. And leaving children alone with Tywin Lannister would give anyone pause.

But the interactions with Stark two years previously were in the forefront of her mind. Stark and Lannister seemed destined to a collision course. _And the Stark daughters will be there…If I could temper the flames in any way…and my two eldest children are right there in the volatile capital._

The management of Casterly Rock was the least of her worries, it was her children that was her concern and she was torn in two directions.

"I will begin preparations for my travel, My Lord."

Lord Tywin leveled a glare at her which she returned as comfortably as she could manage.

"Make the most of this journey then. Ensure my son's hubris does not overwhelm him. The longer men and women have bowed to him, the more assertive he has become. Take care that he deals with Eddard Stark appropriately, and that the future queen shows us favor or at the least, obedience."

* * *

The following days seemed to pass as quickly as a blink of the eye. On the morning of her departure she went to see her son, only to find her daughters holding him.

The maidservant hurriedly explained herself. "My Lady I ensured they were gentle."

"It is acceptable, leave us." Lysa commanded. The servant did not hesitate to obey.

"Mother." Sile, the oldest of the group at ten answered "Do not worry for Brynden. He grows stronger every day." The little boy did look content in the arms of his sister. His customary thrashing was not occurring, he looked at peace.

"This is kind of you. Continue, he needs his sisters while his mother is away." Lysa said sweetly and appreciatively.

"When will you be back Mother? Will Father, Philippa, and Gerrion be with you?" Eight year old Jainifer asked apprehensively.

"As soon as I can. I shall write you, and you must practice writing me back."

She gave a kiss to the forehead to her three youngest daughters before giving one to her son. Brynden raised his small hand to her face as if asking her not to go.

The group of them looked so perfect, so loving. The patriarchs of the family were terrifying to outsiders, but that hid the more gentle side of the household. That is why she had to leave for this short time. To ensure no external force could disrupt moments like this.

The future of House Lannister that she helped build would not be upset. Nothing would harm her children.

 _The things we do for love._

* * *

 **A/N**

 **The next chapter will be a Lucien POV and the Starks will be in Kings Landing.**

 **The plot from the book and show will begin, but of course there will be significant deviations.**


	10. Lucien II Lysa III

**Lucien**

"My Lord, Lord Stark and his host has begun to arrive." The Lannister servant reported.

"Very well, dismissed." Lucien replied curtly. He placed his quill down and rose from the seat in his office.

"It will take time for Lord Stark to settle in, and you are not required until a meeting is called." Lysa replied.

"Stark is a soldier, he will want to settle business immediately. I will not be dictated by his command. I shall be there to meet him."

He was delighted that Lysa had traveled here to the Red Keep. It was partly selfish, he enjoyed having her around. It was mostly practical, as Principal Advisor to the King he concerned himself in all aspects of the realm and the workload was burdensome. There may be peace, but the crown was a mess, Stark had no idea what he had walked into. Lucien Lannister currently held the burden of being as knowledgeable as a King should be, but he was without the authority to make any decrees.

Lysa particularly aided him when analyzing the crown's finances. That was of paramount importance as he intended the Lannister loans to be paid back. Looking at the ridiculous expenses King Robert incurred was nearly enough for Lucien to wish to join his brother in being called 'Kingslayer'.

Of course having Lysa in Kings Landing was not strictly beneficial. The master of coin, Peter Baelish had grown up with Lysa as a ward of Lord Hoster. When Lucien first arrived in Kings Landing, his sister Cersei had snarkily informed him of a disgusting rumor regarding Baelish and his wife's virtue. One glare when he first met Baelsih sent a clear message. If he caught Baelish approaching Lysa he would see if the man's wit would protect him from a knife in the throat.

"My Lord, good fortune to you." Lysa replied before giving him a kiss as he departed.

"All will be well. Do not worry, your concern has been heard." He gave her a reassuring smile before leaving, when he entered the Hall his smile disappeared. His guards would think it queer if Lucien Lannister walked about with a smile.

He hated Kings Landing, hated the people that resided there. But what it represented made it almost worth it. The center of the realm lay on top of Aegon's Hill.

His reputation preceded him as his long strides sent him towards the throne room at a quick pace. Men and women alike hurriedly stepped aside for him. Lucien Lannister had been in Kings Landing for the better part of two years, and all intelligent residents, with the exception of a few bold ones, learned to stay out of his way.

That was fortunate, because he had a singular focus today.

Men at post opened the large door that led to the throne room, where the central focus of the room was nearly always the Iron Throne.

And yet, it was not today. Because his brother Ser Jaime Lannister was loitering in front of the metal monstrosity. To his irritation, he would have to pass his brother in order to enter the small council chamber. His son Gerrion squired for his brother, but he was not currently present. In fact, no one else was in the large room. The distance between the entrance and the throne was irritatingly long. His footsteps made sharp echoing noises as he slowly approached.

"Brother, so fortunate to catch sight of you before you slip away." Jaime casually remarked.

Jaime's arrogance was mitigated whenever in the presence of Tywin Lannister. But despite his best effort, Lucien could not inspire the same respect from Jaime.

"The King will actually attend?" Lucien replied sharply.

Jaime momentarily soured at the mention of the King. "Of course not, he never does. How many whores do you think he is having now? Why do you ask?"

"Then why are you here if not to guard the King?"

"Why greeting the ruling members as they arrive, offering them my sincere gratitude."

 _Gratitude. Since when have you been grateful for anything?_

"Eager to jab at Lord Stark? Give him a warm welcome? You never could ignore a chance to gloat."

Jaime laughed. "A bit hypocritical of you. After all these years, are you still sour from your training yard beatings as a child, Lucien?"

Lucien Lannister was an excellent swordsman, but few could match Jaime Lannister in that regard. As children they had to be separated more than once for sparring that had gone too far.

"Those days are long gone, remember what happened when you become too cocky, Jaime."

Jaime's smile did not falter. "You almost bested me, but still not quite. And I recall a few punches to the face, you always did fight dirty when frustrated. I much prefer training your son, far better than his sire in every way."

Before he could respond their attention was taken to across the room as the large doors swung upon to reveal Lord Eddard Stark, who began to slowly approach. His gaze was straight forward towards the two Lannister brothers in front of the Iron Throne. The same spot where Jaime had been standing when Eddard saw the Mad King's corpse.

"Enjoy yourself." Lucien dryly remarked before heading towards the back of the room towards the interior room where the small council presided. He had no care for what Jaime and Eddard would say to one another.

He always thought this room looked drab and inelegant. Pomp was usually unnecessary, but for a location that went about business involving the entire realm, the room looked dull. The men inside may appear just as dull on the surface if not for the fact that they were all dangerous, except for the Kings' brother.

Lord Varys was uncomfortably effective as Master of Whisperers. So much so, that he guaranteed his safety by way of being incredibly useful. Littlefinger of course was unpleasant and cocky at the best of times. These men did not have castles and bannermen at their beck and call. Yet Lucien found them to be the most critical pieces in Kings Landing, and the most feared. Varys especially. The capital was ruled by information.

Pycelle was his father's loyal servant, and by extension served him. The old bastard was of more use then he had expected. It was odd how much information passed by the Grand Maester despite the show of incompetence that he put forth.

He swept past Lord Renly, whom he ignored. The man may be the Kings brother, but the man did not hold high esteem or importance. Renly was unofficially in charge of the meetings until Lord Stark took his position, and yet his existence was of little consequence and Lucien consistently ran over his supposed authority.

Seating himself, he waited for the new Hand. Minutes passed by, Jaime must be having his fun, and yet his gaze never wandered past the entrance. He would have himself be the first thing Eddard Stark saw in the council chambers.

Lord Stark entered and was immediately greeted by the other members. Lucien remained seated, his eyes never wavered.

"Lord Stark." Varys said in that graceful tone of his.

"Lord Varys." Stark replied.

 _The spider is not a_ _Lord_ , though Lucien was surprised that Stark knew of the eunuch.

"I was grievously sorry to hear of you troubles on the King's road. We are all praying for Prince Joffrey's full recovery." Varys continued.

Lucien held back a snort, the future King was a spoiled brat. He would prance about like a peacock, but would shrivel when he was challenged. If he was to become King, some hardship would do him good. Cersei should have smacked the boy years ago. The prince was even too afraid to spar with Gerrion and risk embarrassment. For all Gerrion's faults, looking at Joffrey proved to him that Gerrion was indeed a man, no longer a boy.

"Shame you did not say a prayer for the butcher's son." Stark replied a bit sharply before moving past Varys.

 _Well, well. Conflict already. Sounds like an intriguing story._

"Renly" Stark said when moving forward and embracing said man. "You are looking well."

 _Lord Renly always does his best to look pretty while having no depth at all._

"And you look tired from the road. I told them this meeting could wait another day but…"

"But we have a kingdom to look after" Littlefinger interjected.

 _I would not entrust you to look after a whore Baelish, let alone a kingdom. People under your charge do not fare well._

Littlefinger had presumed to spy on him when Lucien first came to Kings Landing. Lucien had uncovered the spy, got Baelish's name out of her, cut off her two little fingers, and presented them to the brothel owner. Lucien was certain that Littlefinger still had eyes and ears on him quite frequently.

Regarding Stark, Littlefinger was bold enough to make his acquaintance with Catelyn Stark known.

 _Perhaps we can find common cause after all Lord Stark. It could be an effective bonding moment when we kill this man together._

Lucien would love to have an excuse to kill Baelish, but spying was no grounds for execution. Everyone in Kings Landing spied on everyone else.

 _Make one mistake Lord Baelish, and you will suffer._

"Lord Stark" Lucien announced. He wanted to end this pointless conversation. "A pleasure to see a man of your esteem as the Hand. We should begin immediately."

Stark stared into his eyes before looking around at the other members. "Without the King?"

 _I told you he does not attend these meetings two years ago. Nothing has changed._

Before the other members could give a rubbish excuse for the Kings absence, Lucien replied,

"As the Hand you should know not to expect the King's attendance. The burden of the realm lies here, and now upon you."

"His grace has many cares. He entrust us to some small matters so that we might lighten the load." Varys interjected and Lucien simply continued to gaze coldly.

 _Many cares. Like laying with a multitude of whores. Shaming my sister._ Out of all his siblings, he had the best relationship with his sister, not that that was saying much. Cersei would always be jealous that Lucien would inherit Casterly Rock, but at this moment there was no cause for conflict. The mutual hatred of the King was helpful in evening out the relationship. The disrespect towards House Lannister that King Robert showed by shaming Cersei was unconscionable.

Stark began to undo the first scroll. It was a declaration to host a tournament honoring Stark's appointment at hand. As Stark read the corresponding prize money aloud, the crown's debts were pounding in Lucien's head.

"Can the treasury bear such expense?" Pycelle said with convincing inquisition. Of course he knew it could not.

"I'll have to borrow it. Lord Lannister, would you be willing to contact your father? The crown already owes Lord Tywin three million, what is another eighty thousand?" Baelish had the gall to ask.

"I will not bother with such pointlessness. Lannister loans will be used to better the realm. Not fund unnecessary tourneys. Find another donor or better yet convince the King to kill this ridiculous proposal. And do not borrow from the Iron Bank for an expense so frivolous." Lucien said formally but coldly, staring at Littlefinger the entire time.

Lord Stark was already taken aback by the admission of such steep debt.

"Are you telling me the crown is three million in debt?"

"I am telling you the crown is six million in debt." Baelish responded.

 _Now you know how foolish your King really is Lord Stark._

"Six point forty-two to be exact as of the last report, no doubt with the lag between reports it is higher." Lucien added. He was annoyed that Baelish had rounded down.

"How can this happen." Stark said with a mixture of anger and shock. Stark had been warned about the debt two years ago, but the problem had only compounded with time.

"I have done all I can over the past years to lower this waste, but only so much can be done when the King does not listen." Lucien replied.

There was small back and forth before Stark declared that the tournament was a waste that could not be afforded.

 _If we agree as often as we do now there will be no issue at all._

"There is no benefit from such an arrangement. Funds should be directed elsewhere." Lucien all but snapped. At last the ridiculous demands of the King were being challenged by someone other than himself.

When Littlefinger tried to continue to make preparations, Eddard shut him down sharply, but later backtracked on his tone.

"Forgive me, my Lords…I had a long ride." Stark did look extremely tired. He may latter interject against Lucien's wishes, but for now Stark was promising to give King Robert what he needed. Common sense.

"You are the King's Hand. Your dictations carry weight. I fully support Lord Stark in this endeavor. An appeal should be made to the King." Lucien supported.

The rest of the meeting was long and boring. Small council meetings were beyond tedious. Lucien yearned to lead the meetings himself rather than having to interject at every point. At long last it was over. He joined with Stark as the group departed.

"Lord Stark, a moment of your time." They walked side by side out of the antechamber into the throne room.

"That went rather well." Lucien remarked.

"That was well?"

"Other meetings were far more frustrating, the debt raises by the day."

"Does no one challenge Robert?"

"Few can challenge a King. Fewer can change a King's mind. Perhaps you can. He may listen to you. You do not want the King's money wasted. I want our loans repaid. There is common cause there. Together we could mold this realm back into proper shape. Perhaps I was hasty in my warnings, a mixture of Northern and Southern leadership could inspire tough but fair governance."

Lord Stark replied, "I desire no strife with you Lord Lannister, as long as the best interest of the King and the realm is addressed."

"I assure you a stable realm is my concern. Only the evil desire chaos and war over peace and stability. When I wage war it is out of duty rather than desire."

Lucien made an effort to soften his face. Stark looked tired and beaten down. He stopped and the look on his face compelled Eddard to stop as well. The two of them faced each other in the middle of the throne room, the Iron Throne was looming in the distance.

"I offer you my sincere sympathies Lord Stark. I lost an infant in the cradle, I pray your Brandon makes a recovery in haste. A kind young lad." Eddard studied Lannister's face intently, but it was sincere.

"My sympathies for your child. If the Gods will it, Brandon will wake again."

"The gods can find it in themselves to show mercy to you and keep an innocent boy in this world a while longer. But we shouldn't linger on such thoughts, there is enough death in this city."

"The realm is at peace. Who is dying?"

"You would be surprised at the number of corpses that are thrown into Blackwater Bay during peace time." Lucien responded seriously.

They were now alone in the throne room, and Lucien extended his hand towards the Iron Throne looming above them. "Welcome to Kings Landing my Lord Hand, may your gods be with you".

Stark looked very serious. "A change of culture is in order. At its current state the realm will not be stable much longer."

 _Could he actually be an unwitting ally? Most likely not, common causes rarely last. In the most plausible positive scenario for Stark's vision, how detrimental to House Lannister would that vision be? How much influence could be gained? How much influence would be lost?_

Lucien gave Eddard the smallest hint of a bow before walking away. "I wish you the best Lord Hand. Kings Landing is a difficult beast to wrangle. Very unpredictable. There are no friends. Previous allies are paid off. Schemers plot in the shadows. A single day can change everything. You can certainly try."

* * *

 **Lysa**

"'The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms' that is what Lord Stark asked for and what I provided for him." The Grand Maester reported in his feeble tone. "The same book the Lord Jon Arryan asked for shortly before his passing."

"A genealogy? Why would John Arryan be interested in history, and why would that interest be significant enough to gain Lord Stark's attention?" Lysa inquired.

"A queer inquiry, why use it unless to place a claim to a title of land. Arryn and Stark do not strike me as men who would do such a thing." Lucien said intently. He had an intentionally sharp voice and his impatience was growing.

It had been two weeks since Eddard Stark had arrived. In that time no noticeable changes had occurred. The animosity that Lysa had feared was not present. Lannister and Stark were both frustrated, but not at each other. But this book was strange.

"My Lord, my Lady…I could not…I could not discern…the nature of…"

"Grand Maester." Lucien interjected, he was clearly annoyed. "We are alone, if my wife were not to be trusted then she would not be here. Speak plain."

The old man responded by straightening his back and practically transforming before Lysa's eyes.

"Thank you my Lord Lannister. The act can be tiresome." Pycelle replied with astute confidence and diction.

"No motive for the book is clear, despite its strange circumstances. I will have a look at this book when Stark is finished. Though without a notion of its importance I doubt I will be able to discover anything." Lucien said with a hint of anger seeping into his voice.

"I live to serve My Lord, My Lady. Strange actions are always worth investigating. I have seen developments from strange matters numerous times over the years."

The Grand Maester regained his slumped, feeble look before departing.

Lysa looked over to her husband. He was patient, but the cracks were beginning to show. He despised this city as much as she did, despite his talent for politics.

On top of it all, the King was getting on his nerves. The tournament of the Hand would commence despite the opposition. King Robert had also taken to calling Lucien 'The ugly Lannister' and slapping him on the back whenever they crossed paths. It would irritate anyone.

The real ugly Lannister had returned to Casterly Rock. It seemed Tyrion had seen enough of the Wall on his first trip and had departed with the King's Host before deviating towards the seat of House Lannister. It was for the best perhaps that Tyrion did not return to the capital. The dwarf's presence always put Lucien into a foul mood.

"It may be nothing, but this action from Lord Stark is too strange to ignore." Lysa said.

"It is bloody strange. I will not ignore it. A strange circumstance to be sure, but there is nothing that can be done regarding it, other than continuing to monitor Stark's actions."

"Men do not read genealogies for pleasure. There was something at work, Stark himself may not even know. He may be just as curious." Lysa stated before slowly sipping her wine. The days were long and they mostly found themselves shut up in Lucien's office, even taking meals there.

"All the more reason to be cautious." Lucien ground out. "Stark is not hostile, but his actions are moderately interesting. For example, I've learned of a man from Bravos that is new to the Red Keep. He happens to arrive in the same area of the Keep that young Arya Stark is for periods of time. I had asked her what she does to pass her time. Dancing instruction she told me."

"Dancing. Her, Oh please."

"Indeed, a very different sort of dancing." Lucien gave a humorless laugh before continuing. "That is what my spies have told me about Stark. Next to nothing, meaningless information. Next I will learn he reads genealogies as a past time."

"My Lord, you need time to yourself, to clear your head."

Years of such frustrating work would infuriate anyone. Especially when keeping up a strong public appearance.

Lucien looked over to her and seemed about to resist before rising to his feet and relenting "You are right. I am in need of recreation. My son should be eager for a sparring match. Nothing I do here now will be half as useful."

Lucien Lannister had been blessed with many things, but perfect eyesight was not one of them. Lysa noticed that in the ledgers provided by Peter Baelish, the markings over time became smaller and smaller to the point of bordering on illegible.

"Find some time for yourself, and then we shall find time together when the night arrives." He remarked before placing a kiss on her brow and leaving to the training yard to find his son. At this time, Gerrion had grown enough to give many a grown men a true challenge.

She sighed. She could leave and mingle with the other noblewomen, but her husband was clearly overworked and she had come to Kings Landing to aid him. The clearer his mind, the less work he had, the better chance that he would stay atop the political hierarchy of Kings Landing and all would be well.

Lysa could not wait for the pair of them to depart the city. To see her other children. They wrote her and all was well thus far. Soon Gerrion would marry Margery Tyrell and return to Casterly Rock. Philippa would either find a husband or return to the Rock as well.

Kings Landing was horrid. The people were horrid. It spoke volumes that the hours of pouring over ledgers were usually the highlights of her day. Occasionally she found time to speak with her children Philippa and Gerrion. But on a whole, time in Kings Landing was apprehensive. Like an eruption waiting to burst, peace never lasted forever.

On top of all of this, if Lysa had known that Peter Baelish had been Master of Coin, she would have feared this trip even more. The last thing she needed was to pay for mistakes she made when she was young and stupid. Lucien had not noticed she was not a virgin on their wedding night. That the fruit of that mistake had been aborted by her father. Baelish was ancient history and she needed to ensure it stayed that way.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **In this story, Tyrion has already been to the Wall and has no reason to return there.** **Therefore, he will have left the North earlier and will not be at the Inn at the** **Crossroads.**

 **Some of the Small Council dialogue is taken from the show. Pycelle's demenour is based on a Season 3 deleted scene.**

 **The next chapter is planned to have a Eddard and Lucien POV.**

 **A confrontation is not far away.**

 **The peace will soon be over.**


	11. Eddard IV Lucien III

**Eddard**

 _This damned city is going to be the death of me._

It seemed there was no moment of respite. Just constant tension and a dark cloud of uncertainty that loomed over the day and muddled his dreams at night.

Jon Arryn's last actions while alive were suspicious and chilling. Reading a genealogy book and visiting the King's bastards were not normal activities for a man as busy as the King's Hand. Whenever there was time on his hands, Eddard dove into the genealogy book provided by Grand Maester Pycelle. If there was any relevance in that book it eluded him.

The tournament that no one wanted to pay for had gone on, due to the King's demand. The event had only lead to more uncertainty for Eddard. One man had died during the joust. The man had been a squire for Jon Aryan, and he was killed by Ser Gregor Clegane, a bannerman of House Lannister.

That was ominous enough, and Clegane proved himself a rabid dog. At the end of the tournament, when Clegane was unhorsed by Loras Tyrell, the 'Mountain that Rides' attacked the son of Lord Tyrell in full view of the audience. To say the least, it had caused an uproar. Lady Margery and her Grandmother, 'The Queen of Thorns', were in attendance. They were in the capital to prepare for the wedding of Margery and Gerrion Lannister. Under those circumstances, a Lannister bannerman's attempt to murder a Tyrell was scandalous to say the least. The Queen of Thorns had demanded retribution.

Lord Lucien did not attend the tournament, but when he learned about the near catastrophe involving his new ally, he was so wroth that he ordered his strongest military soldier to be executed. It took eight men to subdue and bind the beast of a man. Lannister had offered Sandor Clegane the chance to behead his brother. The animosity between the siblings was well known. But, Sandor Clegane demanded to kill his brother in open combat. Lord Lucien did not want to place a weapon in Gregor Clegane's hands, and the Lord ended up performing the execution personally since he did not have a headsman with him. It took three strikes to cut through Clegane's thick neck.

Lucien Lannister currently sat across from Eddard in the small council chambers. In the last week since the tournament and Clegane's execution, Lannister had been calm and composed to an unsettling degree. As if he were primed to lash out and murder the next person who vexed him.

It would not take long for that to come to pass. _I cannot blame the man, he has a right to be furious. His family's gold is wasted, and Robert scorns him at every turn. If I did not doubt his intentions, I may pity him._

"I am afraid that recent expenses have exceeded our revenues beyond expectations this moon cycle. Lord Lannister, there simply is not enough gold for the thirty thousand dragon repayment." Littlefinger reported as if business were as usual.

Lannister's voice was calm, yet strained. "Does the King believe Lannister gold to be charity?"

"My brother does not understand finance. Counting coppers he calls it." Renly replied.

"Then perhaps he should waste his own House's coin." Lucien said dryly.

 _The marriage between Cersei and Robert is the only thing tying House Lannister to the crown. The debt gives the Lannisters some power in court, but they certainly are not content in their position._

"As Master of Coin, I have done all that is possible to generate sufficient revenues to repay the debt from your House." Littlefinger said smoothly.

"I grow tired of this mundane, repetitive dance. I suggest a tax on brothels, odd that they are largely exempt since you took your office." Lannister said sternly while staring Baelish down.

"House Lannister has heavily invested in the realm. That should not be ignored. If the agreed amount cannot be paid, a portion should still be provided as a sign of good faith." Eddard tried to negotiate.

Lucien waved him off "Much obliged Lord Stark, but I decline. Hold the repayment until three month's time from now. My son's wedding shall be held then. The crown will repay House Lannister one hundred thousand dragons at that time to cover the expense."

"My Lord, for such a lump sum our coffers may not be sufficient…" Littlefinger began to explain.

"I have given you time. You are a master of coin? Use that time to raise investments. Your repayments have failed one time to many. You will see it done, Baelish." Lannister said in an assured manner before rising and leaving the chambers. The rest of the small council followed him not long afterwards.

Eddard was prepared to depart to his office when Peter Baelish approached him. "Lord Stark, I bring news from your wife." _From her? What are you talking about? Any message by raven would not go through you._

"My wife is at Winterfell."

"Is she?" Littlefinger flashed a smile before he walked past.

* * *

It was midday, yet he left the Red Keep and walked down the streets of Kings Landing. Discretion was difficult as he was Hand of The King. Even so, the people in the streets seemed to go about their business without incident. It still made Eddard nervous. _So many eyes and ears. And too close to Catelyn, if Littlefinger is not pulling a jape._

Littlefinger finally turned around with a flourish as if giving a great presentation. "She is here. One of many fine establishments I own."

The building was clearly a brothel. _You sniveling little worm._ Eddard instinctively rammed Baelish against the wall of his establishment. Strong fingers wrapped around the Master of Coin's throat.

"You are a cleaver man." Ned said softly to Littlefinger "A funny cleaver man."

"Ned." The voice was above him. Only his family referred to him informally, and he could never forget the sound of that particular voice. He looked up with shock to see his wife Catelyn above him. For a moment he lost himself, before releasing Baelish and entering the building in haste.

Catelyn then told him her story. About the assassin with the Valyrian steel dagger. About the suspicions around Bran's fall. About the golden hair found in the tower above Bran's fallen body, and Baelish's claim of the assassin's dagger belonging to Tyrion Lannister.

 _The Lannisters, it always comes back to the Lannisters._ The root of his suspicions regarding Jon Arryn, and now this.

"Our boy. Only ten years old, crippled for life. He saw something he was not meant to. Why else try to silence him? We must do something." Catelyn said with grief in her voice.

"Accusing the queen's brother of attempting to kill your boy would be considered treason." Littlefinger said seriously.

"We have proof. We have the blade." Catelyn said as she turned to face Baelish.

"That is not enough, we need more. Lord Lucien could cause turmoil in Kings Landing after such an accusation was made, and Lord Tywin has never let a slight go unanswered." Eddard interjected.

"The Imp will claim the blade was stolen from him. The only man who could say otherwise has no throat, thanks to your boy's wolf." Littlefinger remarked. The man who was usually quite glib was deadly serious in his tone.

"Petyr has promised to help us find the truth. He's like a little brother to me Ned, he would never betray my trust." Catelyn looked at Eddard imploringly. Littlefinger's persona caused automatic suspicion on his claims, but Catelyn vouched for the man. It was difficult to ignore Catelyn's intuition. _Is the whoremaster playing a part? Can he truly be of help? Difficult circumstances create strange bedfellows._

"The Imp is safe behind the walls of Casterly Rock. Lord Tywin would defend his son and his House's reputation no matter the crimes committed, proven or otherwise." Eddard pointed out.

 _This is a dangerous game we are playing. A wrong move will spark disaster very quickly._

"I'll try to keep you alive Lord Stark, for Catelyn's sake. A fool's task admittedly, but I've never been able to refuse your wife anything." Littlefinger said with a bit of his haughty personality returning.

"I won't forget this. You are a true friend" Catelyn said sincerely as she referred to Baelish.

"You must take care Catelyn. For instance, your sister and her Lannister husband would be very interested if they learned that you were here." Littlefinger remarked.

Catelyn tensed at the mention of her sister. "Oh gods, Lysa." She said in despair.

"There is no indication of her involvement. She was many leagues away." Eddard said quickly to comfort her.

"She could not have any part of this. She could not." said Catelyn confidently, as if she were trying to convince herself. "There is no indication towards her husband either. Could Lord Lucien be involved in this?" Catelyn asked.

"That is unknown, but I know this, Lucien Lannister desires power and he is on the cusp of receiving it. There was no hesitation when he executed a valuable bannerman when there was a threat to a Tyrell alliance. He will not jeopardize such opportunities. Many men kill for what they want, and Lannister is most certainly a killer. Even if his brother has committed a crime, he is obligated to come to the Imp's defense using any means necessary." Littlefinger said grievously.

* * *

 **Lucien**

Lucien snarled as he paced about the bedroom. Behind him, he head his wife shuffle uncomfortably behind him. A moment passed while he seethed in anger. He had summoned her to their chambers, the topics to be discussed were too important to be in his office. At last he approached his wife. Every word spoken would be soft and in close proximity to the recipient.

His mood was beyond foul. Kings Landing was aggravating at the best of times and these times were certainly not the best. Gregor Clegane had lost his life due to blood lust. Lucien needed to act, he did not arrange the union between Tyrell and Lannister only for it to be undone by one untamed brute. Lucien was given permission by Lord Tywin to act with a Lord's authority, and the decision to behead Clegane fell into that circumstance. If Clegane could not be controlled, it made Lucien and his authority look weak. His father made few mistakes, but Lucien believed that Gregor Clegane was one of them. He should have been executed the moment that he showed his true nature by defiling Elia Martell. His skill on the battlefield was not worth a dilemma of this magnitude.

And on top of this, these new circumstances he learned of this afternoon were intriguing, baffling, and infuriating.

His wife was soon by his side "Do not torture me with such suspense. Why summon me? What angers you?"

In Kings Landing there was nothing more valuable than a spy network and Lucien ensured he had one of the best. And it proved its worth today.

"The Council meeting was early in the morning. After it, Stark decided to walk the streets of the city."

Stark had taken a similar trip earlier. Lucien had demanded Stark be trailed, and that route had taken him to a blacksmith. That did not seem unusual, except Stark spoke for an ample length of time, purchased nothing, and upon inspection the blacksmith's apprentice looked very much like Robert Baratheon. Lucien marked the boy as a person of interest, no reason to move against the boy. But if there was a hint of political activity towards Gendry Waters, then the boy would lose his life.

Lucien continued "Petyr Baelish accompanied him. An odd choice for a companion. At the end of their journey, they both entered one of Baelish's brothels."

Lysa's face grew red, her voice remained low but it came out in a hiss. "Fucking hypocrite. The honorable Eddard Stark. He walks into a brothel in broad fucking daylight. Publicly shaming my sister. That…"

She stopped abruptly and glared at him in confusion before asking. "Why do you care? Why are you angry?"

"Because my spy informed me that Lord Stark had a scuffle with Littlefinger. That is until a women poked her head out of a window to stop him. Catelyn Stark. Your sister is in the capital. In a brothel owned by Petyr Baelish. In secret."

Lysa's eyes grew wide and her fingers began to twitch. Long moments passed.

"You are certain?"

"My information is accurate."

"To travel all the way from Winterfell. What would prompt such a journey?" She wondered aloud. She paused in deep thought.

"I will speak to Philippa." Lysa said calmly, she was shaken, but she adopted a calm presence. "She will bring up family while speaking with the Stark daughters on the morrow and days afterwards. Our Philippa is perceptive, if there is not a noticeable reaction from the Stark children…"

"If Lady Catelyn attempts to leave the capital without meeting with her daughters after coming all this way…" He stopped speaking and stared hard into his wife's eyes before continuing, "That would stink of a conspiracy."

"A conspiracy of what, we would need more information." Lysa said.

"Something to share with her husband that was worth the travel. Enough to leave her children behind in Winterfell and not trust the contents in a letter."

They stared silently at one another in thought.

"Cat told me the most important thing in her life was her children, she was attached to Lord Stark as well. A threat to their safety could have been sufficient to entice her to travel in secret." Lysa said slowly.

"She left a son who was crippled and to my knowledge, comatose. She would have thought that threat to be credible in order to make such a decision….or she has lost her mind with grief."

"My sister is not a fool." Lysa said sternly causing Lucien to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"I did not say foolish, but perhaps grieving and irrational." After he spoke he could feel the anger from earlier leaving his voice, and his customary cold confidence began to return.

"This may very well not involve us at all, but this cannot be ignored. Such extreme circumstances are usually followed by extreme actions." Lucien said coldly. He noted that his tone was making Lysa uncomfortable.

"Would Lord Stark really cause disruption in the realm?" Lysa asked.

"Many men and women would cause disruption to get what they want. Myself included, and Lord Stark is no exception. If it were twisted in his mind that it would be the honorable thing, then yes he would."

Lysa reached out to him, "I shall be vigilant my Lord, I shall not sit on my hands and prattle on like a simple minded harlot, let me aid you in any way I can."

"It may be prudent to return you to Casterly Rock."

Lysa looked initially offended and then turned resolute. "No my Lord. If ill will is to be done here I shall face it with you in strength, and if it is irrelevant I shall aid you in any way all the same. I long to be elsewhere, but my place is here."

She spoke with fervor. Lucien could not help but be drawn towards her after her words.

His voice began with a tone of admiration towards his wife. "Seventeen years ago, I would not have predicted you to be so fierce. In the face of uncertainty it is imperative to strengthen our position. Gerrion is to be married at once. To hell with an extravagant wedding, I will have it done now. To ensure the Reach is firmly at our beck and call."

He paused his declaration to briefly consider if he should bother to tell Lysa about his anger towards Petyr Baelish. Ultimately he decided too.

"Littlefinger's connection to these circumstances troubles me. If a plot of any significant effect was conducted under his roof, then my patience with Lord Baelish is at an end. You grew up with the man, would you disapprove of his end?" He studied her face for any reaction, any indication that the rumors regarding her were true. Her face was a blank mask.

"Those years are long gone. A different girl, a different life. The brothel owner is nothing to me. If you declare that he deserves death, then he dies." Lysa said in a serious tone that nearly put a smile on Lucien's face.

She kept the serious tone "And if this plot…assuming it is a plot and assuming it involves House Lannister…comes to fruition…who else would suffer the consequences?"

He approached even closer and embraced her while whispering in her ear. "You have heard the 'Reins of Castamere' many times. I am my father's son. I will defend my name, my blood, the realm, and I will defend you. All who oppose these things will be punished accordingly. Nothing will touch our legacy, I swear this to you."

She looked at him solemnly, "Do what must be done, no matter the action, I shall stand by your side."

Lucien ran his fingers through her hair and whispered so softly that Lysa would have had to concentrate to hear clearly. "I have been stymied by a fat fool for too long. No more. It is time to take the first true step towards power. Our influence will last for generations. All of House Lannister's grievances with the crown will soon be at a end. That I can promise."

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Next Chapter will be a Sansa POV, as a** **large change will impact Kings Landing.**

 **Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Have a Happy Holiday Season!**


	12. Robert I Sansa II

**Robert**

This keep had been his prison for seventeen years. Seventeen long, dull years. For most of it, he seemed as if he were a dead man walking. As a young man, he never realized how truly free he had been. Handsome, strong, brash, and a willing maid within his reach at all times. And the hope for a future, a brief time when Lyanna Stark had been his betrothed. Now, with a crown on his head, the Iron Throne had been nothing more than a burden and an irritant.

Jon Aryan had run the kingdom for him, and now his old friend Eddard Stark was attempting to do the same. Robert had never truly ruled these past seventeen years. He never wished to. A large part, the best part of him had slowly died after the battle on the Trident. After his sweet Lyanna was taken from him. Robert had told Ned that he would 'eat, drink, and whore his way to an early grave' and that would most likely be the case.

 _I am the King, yet probably one of the most miserable men on this earth._

Each day blended with the same. Eating, drinking, short meetings with Eddard, annoying interactions with Lucien Lannister, and the occasional spiteful spat with Cersei. There was no end to unwanted intrusions. The Grand Maester had been fussing over him for the past week, far more so than usual. The old man gave him various substances, supposedly they were supposed to ease various pains. Robert did suffer pain in his back quite regularly, but he would have drank it anyway just to shut the old man up. The constant stuttering would get on anyone's nerves.

All of this nonsense usually ended with a night between the sheets with young ladies.

It was not that Robert Baratheon lacked all his pride. But he was not built for ruling. He was built for war, and the last war was years ago. It was no secret that the once fearsome 'Storm Lord' had gone to rust between his infrequent battle campaigns.

Although he did occasionally entertain himself. It was enjoyable to cause the stupid Lannister squire to stumble over himself. And the elder Lannister brothers irritated him to no end, so he sought to bring them both down a peg whenever possible. Those moments made the time in their presence bearable.

Now was one such time. The younger Lannister was alone with him in one of Robert's rooms, well not quite. Lancel Lannister the squire was there to fill Robert's wine cup. However, the boy might as well have not been there. Not only was he dull, but when Lancel realized his cousin, Lucien Lannister, had entered, the boy had stepped backwards as far as possible.

Robert could not care less what Lucien Lannister proposed and complained about. Obviously it involved something that Lucien could not change himself. Robert might have actually cared if it involved anything of note. But, as his 'Principal Advisor', Lannister prattled on and on. Usually about finances. At first Robert signed off on some of Lannister's proposed decrees. But it was apparent that more and more of them benefited House Lannister indirectly, and so the vast majority of them were denied. Robert would have loved to deny Lannister the meeting altogether, but in all honesty Robert put up with it all just to have the opportunity to insult the man. Normally, Lord Lucien did nothing but take the slights in cold silence.

But this meeting had been going too long. "Gods Lannister." Robert said irritatingly. "Enough of this shit."

"Why? Is your schedule for the day full, your Grace?" Lannister said, the tone of his voice did not even attempt to hide his disdain. Usually Lannister kept a neutral tone, but of late, Lannister's mood had grown more and more foul.

"Is that disgust I hear? Eh, Lannister." Robert challenged.

If there was one advantage to being King, it was that many men had no choice but to bow to his whims. Usually, even Lucien Lannister did not openly talk back to the King. Perhaps Lannister's souring mood would cause an outburst this time, one that Robert would look forward to hearing.

It was no outburst, Lucien's voice was low. Yet there was a silent challenge.

"I remember seeing your Grace for the first time. I was sixteen years and you had just taken the crown. You were tall and powerful, and I was used to associating a King with weakness. After all, Arys was frail and weak of mind. I told father that at last the realm would have a true King."

"Hmph…What did your father say to that. Some cold sobering remark no doubt."

"That Arys was young once. Handsome, intelligent, and strong. You know damn well how he completely turned. The crown drains the life and strength out of every King." Lannister seemed to be indirectly referring to the King's large out of shape figure, or perhaps Robert's inattentiveness.

Robert's voice was loud and booming. There was no doubt he came from the Stormlands. The Kingsguard outside the door no doubt heard him. "I also remember a young man who knelt before the Iron Throne and swore me fealty."

"And I have held to my vow. House Lannister has aided your reign for many years. I have served you for years. Where would the realm be without the support that your richest allies provide?"

Robert ignored him. "The boy had a full head of hair, and a face that made every maiden in the Red Keep swoon. Instead he turned into a dour, sour, manipulative, power hungry man. Don't take a strike to your mouth Lannister, your teeth are the only nice thing you have left."

Lannister said nothing as Robert started to rant. He was finished with Lannister, and may as well tell him off at the end.

"I cannot stand your Kingslayer brother, but at least he seems at peace with his self. Is able to bloody laugh. As distasteful as his self is. It seems your father has ruined the life of that young Lucien who knelt to me years ago."

Again Lannister made no effort to say anything. But surely he was angry, The King had been beyond caring for the attitudes of the Lannister long ago. They were impossible to please, unless you signed the entire kingdom over to them. Even so, they would probably begin to ask for more.

Robert took off his crown and swayed it in front of the both of them. "You want this thing upon your head, do you not?" The King rumbled. "To Lord over the seven kingdoms. Or perhaps it is the Hand you desire, so that you can whisper your will into my son's head long after I am gone. Tell me Lannister do you pray to the Stranger every night to take your King away?"

"Your death would not please me, your Grace." Said Lannister. Now he kept the edge out of his voice. He slipped into his typical neutral tone of voice.

 _And at last. A blatant lie. At least the first that is easily understood._

Lannister continued, "I wish you a long and stable reign your Grace, but I do not pray to anything. Men reform the world and are responsible for everything in it. You reformed the world when you took the crown. That makes you more a god then any supposed deity. The trees of the North and the Seven of the South are all the same. They are as ridiculous as the talks of snarks, grumpkins, and White Walkers. Superstitious nonsense. Prayer will accomplish nothing, neither good or ill."

Robert gave a jovial laugh at Lannister's expense. The man could only sit there and wait, so Robert laughed to his heart's content for a good long while. _And are you going to reform to world? Do you fancy your Father and yourself as gods? Pride comes before the fall, and someday it will be a high and violent fall._

"Well Well, a philosopher is in our mist. Did you practice that pure flattery?" The King said between his laughs. "Perhaps I will attend the Small Council when the High Septon is in attendance. Should be entertaining between the two of you."

"No doubt" Lannister said passively.

"Hell, I would give almost anything to ensure the gods and stories beyond the Wall are real. It would be worth it. There is nothing more enjoyable than seeing a Lannister realize that they were very, very wrong." Robert openly laughed before placing the crown back onto his head and waving his hand away in dismissal.

"I cannot rid myself of you, your father would have none of it. So go, do whatever it is you do. Do not trouble me with these matters any longer. You overstep yourself with your selfish proposals. You shall get no more signatures from me."

"As you wish, your Grace." _Oh, have you turned meek now?_

"Go on, I tire of you." The King continued to wave him off.

Lannister rose, turned his back to the King, and left the room.

After Lannister left, Robert began to plan a hunting trip in the Kingswood. It was one of the few things in this world that he still enjoyed. Afterwards he arranged for his other pleasure. He ensured that Jaime Lannister was on duty to guard his bedroom tonight when five lovely ladies would attend to the King. Let that news find its way back to Lucien Lannister. He was always a loud man in everything he did. At last, between the sheets, he could feel truly alive again. If only for a short while.

* * *

 **Sansa: Early the Next Morning**

It was early, so very early. Much too early. Sansa slowly opened her eyes before shutting them again. There was no light coming in through the window, she must have woken up in the middle of the night.

Yet, she could not find sleep again, for there was a loud constant noise. Her first thought went to Arya. The two of them shared a bedroom here in the Red Keep. But it could not be. The sound had too much of a constant rhythm.

When she opened her eyes again, Arya had already risen. She was still in her small clothes and gazing through the window.

It was warmer here in Kings Landing, so Sansa only covered herself with a single sheet at night. Unlike her sister she draped herself in the sheet for modesty's sake and joined her sister out of curiosity at the window. Before she got there, she identified the sound. It was the sound of bells.

Her heart began to race. _Was this a city wide alert? What was happening?_

"The whole city can hear this." Arya said breathlessly as she stared out at the city through the darkness. The window did little good, much of the view was shrouded in the black of night. Her voice dripped with curiosity.

"It might be an attack." Sansa said seriously. "Come on. Get dressed, Father will come for us, we need to be ready."

"There isn't a war, any army would have been spotted a long time ago." Arya insisted. Yet, she dressed all the same. The rhythmic ringing of the bells hung over them both.

There was a sharp knock on the door. For a moment, Sansa's heart was in her throat, but she was relieved when she heard her Father's voice.

"Girls, wake up. Get ready."

"We are ready for you, Father." Sansa called out.

Nearly instantly, the door swung open and their father entered. Sansa noticed several members of his household guard behind him before he closed the door. All of the guardsmen looked concerned.

"What is it? What is happening?" Arya said quickly.

"Please. Sit down." Her father said. Sansa had never seen her father distressed before.

Eddard lit several candles and the three of them sat on the end of Sansa's bed. The girls looked up to their father expectantly.

Their Father's voice was low "The King is dead. He was found in his bedchamber."

For a moment, Sansa simply sat there in shock. Her mind raced. Ever since she first heard of her betrothal prospect, Sansa could not wait to be Queen. However, events were progressing too quickly. She was merely betrothed, but the prospect was becoming real very quickly.

"Father…I...I" She was finding it difficult to find the appropriate words.

"How? He is not old." Arya asked.

"The Grand Maester is examining him. So far, he believes the King's heart simply stopped."

Something about her Father's voice tipped her off. She was afraid to ask her question.

"Father, do you believe differently?"

He put his hand on her shoulder. "I cannot be certain. Nothing is certain. "

 _Murder? Does he suspect Murder? By whom?_

"What do you need Father, ask and I will do it." Arya said.

"Keep your heads down, the both of you. There is a new King, and I will not be wanted on the small council. I will be formally dismissed and we shall return to Winterfell. We shall return by sea, to ensure we return in haste. First thing tomorrow, I will have you escorted to a ship. Sansa, I shall find a new match for you. I promise that I will see you happy."

Her heart plummeted. Being Queen was within reach, and then it was immediately snatched away. Not only that, but Sansa would have to leave her friends. Philippa Lannister and her attending ladies were becoming like sisters to her. So much so that she found it hard to imagine life without them. Philippa was smart and kind, always willing to listen and had a witty remark ready for every situation. They were within a year in age of each other, and had spent hours discussing what the pair of them would do when Sansa was the Queen. With Joffrey ascending to the throne so soon, she would have power for quite some time. The two girls were to be the envy of every girl in Westeros. Now those dreams were about to be dashed. _All because of one sudden death? What if it is natural?_

"Father, you think the King was murdered? It cannot be. Philippa told me that the King drinks too much. That must be what stopped his heart. Please father, do not take me away. There is no danger. Joffrey will make a fine king and make a good husband to me. He is gallant and strong."

Arya interrupted with anger. "Strong! Gallant! He attacked Micah and then cried like a little girl from a single bite." _No. Do not ruin this Arya, Please._

"No, Father please. The King died in his sleep, that is all this could be. No one could have the ability to kill a King without anyone knowing. The King simply died, that is it." Sansa pleaded. She prayed every prayer that she knew, hoping that Father would listen.

"Sansa, please be calm. I shall find a match that is worthy of you. Many men will want your hand. Southern men if you prefer. They can provide anything that you want and more."

 _No. They are not Joffrey. I will not be with Philippa. I will not be Queen._

"Don't give up on him Father. Joffrey will protect me, he is nothing like that fat King."

Eddard blinked, and for a long moment he was silent. _Is he deep in thought? Or did I shock him? It was his friend who had just died._

"Father, I am sorry. He was your friend." Sansa said quietly.

"Hush now, I understand your disappointment. I will do what is best for us." Eddard said in an even quieter voice, as if his mind was elsewhere at the moment. As if he were putting puzzles together in his head.

Sansa could not sleep afterwards, she willed herself not to cry. Arya would be able to hear her after all. Her father left a few hours ago, yet the conversation was playing over and over in her head.

At long last the morning came. As she descended the tower from her room, she and her sister were flanked by Stark guards. Their presence was unwelcome, and Sansa had never felt so alien to the Red Keep.

The entire area was in chaos, men and women were rushing about, and the Stark daughter's entourage shielded them from the chaos. Although they were still spotted. It was close to their rooms. It was almost as if the meeting had been planned out.

"Sansa" she heard a girl cry out. It was Philippa unmistakably, and she later came into view. The Lannister girl was dressed in an elegant gown. Sansa, by comparison was to board a ship, and had much plainer clothes. Philippa rushed forward towards Sansa, but her progress was impeded by the guard presence.

"Stand aside" the Lannister girl demanded "Why are you shielding me from my cousin?"

"Stop and let her through" Sansa said with anger in her voice. There was no reason for the guards to be rude to her cousin. The guards looked at one another anxiously. Ultimately they likely decided that it would be very suspicious if they denied the cousins to speak together.

"We need to go. We need to be settled on the ship long before Father arrives." Arya whispered to Sansa, but she ignored her sister.

Philippa stepped past the now stationary guards and embraced Sansa in a furious hug. "I do not know if you have heard. Joffrey is to be crowned this evening. All Lords and Ladies in the Red Keep are to swear their fealty to the new King. And soon, the future Queen."

Sansa gave her cousin a sad smile "I cannot be there. I have to return to Winterfell." Sansa felt a subtle nudge from Arya, indicating for her to say no more.

"My lady." One of the guards said in quiet warning.

Philippa looked on with surprise "Your father's orders? But why?"

Sansa settled on a diplomatic approach, despite wanting to tell Philippa everything. "I'm sorry, I do not know my father's mind. I will never forget the time together cousin, and I pray we shall see one another soon. Our ship sets sail this afternoon. This is goodbye." She felt tears forming in her eyes. She felt a jab from Arya, harsher than before.

"My Lady, we must be going" A guard said firmly.

Philippa seemed put off by this sudden revelation, along with its abrupt ending. Philippa moved to kiss Sansa's cheek, tears were in her eyes as well. "Fair winds to your ship. We shall see one another again Sansa. I am sure of it."

* * *

 **Earlier that morning**

He was alone in his solar, and the bells were ringing in the background. The sound of death. The sound of the death of the King.

Furiously, he flipped through the book on his desk. The book that Jon Aryan had sought out. This conspiracy had been on his mind constantly, so much so that the fear it inspired impaired his attention in other areas.

The King was dead. Short of forty years yet Robert Baratheon had drawn his last breath. The King was far from healthy. But many would profit from a new king. One family in particular.

House Lannister stood to gain much with Robert out of the way, and the crown prince never looked more a Lannister. No doubt the boy king's regent would be of House Lannister and would carry out Lannister commands long after the regency ended. But of course, there was no proof to these allegations. It was possible, but not certain.

Catelyn's accusations towards Tyrion Lannister had been pounding in his head for some time. Catelyn had departed Kings Landing one week ago. He prayed for her fast and safe journey.

He prayed for his daughters as well, it was still dark, but he had sent some of his men to acquire passage on a ship. At the very least, they would be quickly free of this nest of vipers.

One phrase was ringing in his head. The phrase that inspired this search. A phrase given by his own daughter.

'Joffrey will protect me, he is nothing like that fat King'

The geneology was vast, and it took a minute to pinpoint the passage he was searching for. At last he found it. Descriptions of the Baratheon family line.

The Baratheon's were an old family. But there was one common attribute for every Baratheon heir.

Black of hair. Every single one.

They had intermarried with many different families, the result was always the same.

Black of hair.

All of Robert's bastards were black of hair.

There were even accounts of Baratheon males married to Lannister females. In every case, the children were black of hair.

His eyes hovered on the most recent line.

Joffrey Baratheon, blond of hair.

The bells signaling the King's death still rang ominously in the background.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **This chapter took longer to write. I had several drafts that I was not happy with, including two conversations that were completely cut out of the final draft. Hopefully the final version came out well.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter.**

 **I am eager to read the reviews from this chapter. No matter how long or short, feedback is always appreciated.**

 **Thank you for reading!**


	13. Eddard V

**Eddard**

Robert was dead. It seemed surreal, unbelievable, yet he had seen the body himself. He had been awoken urgently in the middle of the night and been escorted to the King's bedchamber. Robert had lain completely motionless on his bed. The locale was fitting, as the bedchamber was as silent as a crypt. Even the horrified women who had shared the King's bed that night were frozen in fear.

There was no blood, no injuries. No sign of the cause of death. He was simply dead. Grand Maester Pycelle himself examined the King in haste. The old man had consistently muttered about chiding the King on his poor health.

"I warned him my Lords. He was so found of his vices he could not part with them. Indulged in excess. King Robert would ignore my advise regularly." The Grand Maester had confided to the rest of the Small Council.

"Sound the bells. Alert the populace of their obligation to mourn the King." Lucien Lannister remarked. He must be an impressive actor when it suited him because he sounded genuine.

 _I find it hard to believe the King died naturally. His death is likely as natural as Lucien Lannister's sorrow. But what proof do I have of murder? I have no evidence of the sort, only suspicion._

But it was strong suspicion, and it was fueled by what he had just discovered.

 _Robert's supposed son is not his own. A bastard will be seated on the Iron Throne._

Eddard's heart was pounding. He was no coward, on the contrary he was a very brave man. As a young man he had gone to war against a Targaryen dynasty that had lasted centuries. He had crossed swords with Ser Arthur Dayne. But blind courage would not help him here, he may be Hand of the King for now, but he had no allies in this nest of vipers. Robert had left no will, and that lack of support left Eddard extraordinary vulnerable. If he confronted the Prince or the Lannisters, then his daughters and his household guard would be in terrible danger. The number of Lannister men were equal to Eddard's own, and a sizeable escort of Tyrell forces were present in the capital as well. With the marriage of Gerrion Lannister and Margery Tyrell looming near, it was fairly obvious which family the men from Highgarden would support in a conflict. Eddard did not fear death, but he valued his men and children's lives far beyond his own.

He was currently in the Tower of the Hand, likely for the last time. His daughters were on their way to a ship that he had secured, he would join them and they would depart before the sun set if all went according to plan. He took time to pray that it would.

And then he would have to determine his next course of action. _My upcoming decisions may shape Westeros for generations._

His belongings were secured, they had been loaded into the caravans that he had arrived in. He would be dismissed from his position, there were no doubts about that. There would be no need for him. His men would depart on foot back up the Kings Road.

He felt like his was fleeing, failing Robert in a way. But he could not force a confrontation here and win. Eddard did not know for absolute certain if Robert had been murdered, but at the least the man's lineage had been falsified by the Lannister queen.

He would need to enter the Throne Room one last time, receive his dismissal, and then leave. Just as he was about to depart, Jory Cassel called out from the entryway.

"My Lord, Lord Baelish requests to speak with you."

Eddard had a strong urge to ignore the man, but Catelyn's endorsement of him won out in the end.

"Very well."

Most men and women moved about frantically in the wake of the King's demise. But Littlefinger strode in calmly. While others balked at the chaos of the situation, Baelish seemed at peace. It did not seem to bother him at all.

Baelish appraised the emptied room with a smirk.

"Going somewhere?"

"I am not in the mood for games Lord Baelish, what have you come for?"

"You are quite right. You were never in the mood for the Game. The ultimate Game. You were quite ineffective. And now you return to Winterfell with your tail between your legs."

Eddard was used to the man's insults and disregarded them.

"I have sense, I stand alone. I intend to return to Winterfell as soon as possible."

"The last time I saw a man in such a rush it was Jon Aryan. It was directly before his death. The similarities are uncanny."

Eddard stared down Littlefinger who returned to gaze with nothing more than a smirk.

"You are rattled Lord Stark. And as of yet you are still the Hand of the King. How may I serve you? You seem to need a confidant."

The last place he would look or help would be Littlefinger. The man was a small Lord from the Fingers in the Vale, he did not have large forces at his command. Even if he did, despite helping Catelyn, the man was as slippery as a snake.

"I shall confide elsewhere, I do not require anything from you Lord Baelish." Eddard looked away briefly to pick up 'The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms'. That all important book he would ensure was secure for the journey north.

Littlefinger chuckled, "You could not be more wrong, I can help you in more ways then you know. Starting with ensuring your daughters set sail to the North safely."

Ned instinctively jerked his vision back to Baelish's direction and moved around the desk to close the distance between them.

"Do not presume to threaten me Baelish." Ned said sharply.

"Threaten you? On the contrary, I am going to help you. A great act of treason has transpired, I will ensure you receive justice for King Robert Baratheon."

That gave Ned pause, "How could you possibly be so certain?"

"First Jon Arryan, now King Robert. Important men seem to be dropping dead as of late. Men who have stood in the way of House Lannister for years."

Eddard kept himself calm, "That is a grave accusation for a man with no proof. Such accusations could topple Houses and kingdoms."

"Come now Stark, men do not kill a King and leave behind concrete proof. You need to be aware of your environment. Be able to read between the lines. Grand Maester Pycelle is Lannister's willing dog. He convinced Arys to open the gates to the Lannister forces seventeen years ago. I would be willing to wager a great sum that the old bastard is now party to the death of another King. You saw how Lucien Lannister is stymied at every political turn, how the Queen is discredited, how Lannister gold is grossly wasted. Once Cersei's son sits the Iron Throne and a Lannister regent rules they will be untouchable. Lucien, Cersei, the Kingslayer, they will all mock you in their cups and toast their success and your friend's death."

Eddard simply stood there in silence for a few moments after Littlefinger's remarks. Finally he addressed the brothel owner.

"You risk much by vocalizing such accusations. Lucien Lannister would kill you on the spot."

"I address you Lord Stark because I trust you. Honorable fool that you are. You will do the right thing."

 _If this is true. If this is a power grab along with a bastard king, then war is absolutely inevitable._

"The Grand Maester is the sole man responsible for the King's health correct?" Eddard asked quietly.

 _Is Catelyn right. Is he a friend to her, can I trust him?_

"Grand Maester Pycelle is responsible for the King's health. He alone could recommend medicines for the King to drink. And he was the sole man who examined the corpse thoroughly after death. The Lannister's are not fools. They would not have killed the King if it could be traced back to him. Few know that Pycelle puts on an act, where his loyalties lie. I have spent my life to establish means of information. All the pieces were in place for Lucien Lannister to kill Robert Baratheon discretely, and he had sufficient motivation to take it. But if it was not Lord Lucien, then Queen Cersei is the next likely suspect. Pycelle would answer to her as well. Either way, the Lannisters have committed treason. I am certain of it."

"And why tell me this? What do you have to gain from this? You would not lift a finger otherwise."

"Marriages with the Tyrells, attempting a match with Lord Robert of the Vale, killing a King. The Lannisters are making a grab for the entire kingdom, how could I simply stand aside."

Ned tried to piece the information together with what he already knew. _And the future king will be a Lannister, perhaps even the Kingslayer's. A pure Lannister…my boy Bran was pushed from the tower…it is believed the Imp attempted to have Bran silenced. Robert politically blocking Lord Lucien at every turn. It does fit. They tried to kill my boy, and now they may have killed my King. My brother in all but blood._

Littlefinger continued through Eddard's thoughts "The king died at the perfect time for the Lannisters. They have an ample Tyrell force in this city, thanks to the marriage of the Lannister heir and Margery Tyrell. You do not have the numbers to confront them, and they will not permit the city watch in the throne room without causing suspicion."

"You think me a fool. The King is dead, I know very well that I have no support in this city. Any attempt to bring accusations will be disastrous."

"Retreat, my Lord. This is a fight you cannot win here. Patience. Pay lip service to the boy King and leave the city. You will need armies to bring down the traitors, armies that are not here."

Eddard did not fully trust Littlefinger. Not yet. He would keep the information about Prince Joffrey's lineage to himself for now.

He knew what he had to do "Swear a false vow." He mumbled mostly to himself.

"You prefer the alternative?

"Let us say you are correct Lord Baelish. That all your accusations are true. That the Lannister's have committed gross treason. Then I may stand alone against the might of the realm."

Littlefinger glanced about the mostly empty room.

"You clearly have awareness of your position in Kings Landing. You are not wanted as Hand of the King. So do as they wish. Leave, and summon strength to face them at a later date."

Eddard listed the numerous players in this potential war. "Stannis Baratheon would stand with me if he is convinced of his brother's murder. I cannot be certain that anyone else will be swayed. The Iron Islanders hate the Lannisters and Balon's son is my ward, but they would be a dangerous and unstable ally. In the Riverlands, Hoster Tully would be torn between choosing his two daughters' families. With the Lannisters' might close by, he may side with them. The Tyrell's have been tied close to the Lannisters."

"A reasonable analysis, but I grew up in the Tully household. Lord Hoster has favored Catelyn and always has. Meet with him personally, if you do this you will sway him."

"The Vale is run by a young boy with lesser Lords fighting to advise him like scavengers over a piece of meat. The region is too volatile to be relied on."

Littlefinger then gave a full smile. "You underestimate your position Lord Stark. You have more than enough to emerge victorious. Jon Arryn's son favors me. I am like a second father to him. The Vale will be by your side, Lord Stark. You can be certain of that. On your way north I suggest meeting with the Arryn Lord."

There was a pause as Eddard simply stared at Lord Baelish. The later was so casual and self-assured, as if discussing mundane matters rather than sparking a continent wide war.

"Lord Baelish, truly, what do you gain from any of this?"

Littlefinger smiled "As a man of a small house, I enjoy the mighty being brought low. Lucien Lannister is a vile man. His family has committed high treason, and his fall will be a sight to behold.

* * *

 **A Few Hours Later**

"You stand in the presence of King Joffrey Baratheon, First of his name. Long may he reign."

"Long may he reign." The proclamation resounded throughout the Throne Room. The former Queen Cersei echoed the phrase with measurable satisfaction.

Joffrey Baratheon was seated on the Iron Throne and was clearly enjoying it. To his left his mother Cersei was seated with Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella at her side. They were behind the impressive line of all seven members of the Kingsguard.

Eddard stood in front of the Kingsguard. Like the other members of the small council he had been summoned to stand before the new King.

"I expect the small council to make arrangements for my coronation, and to take acts of fealty towards their new King." The boy king spoke. It was clear he was attempting to sound impressive and imposing.

"Although." Joffrey remarked, as if it were an afterthought. "The council was put in place by other Kings, should a new King not adjust the council for a new reign?"

Joffrey's eyes lied on Eddard Stark directly as he said this.

 _He is only a boy. Most likely he is being told to say this, and is unaware of his parentage._

Eddard took a single step forward "Your grace" He forced himself to say those simple words.

"Lord Stark you were appointed by my Father, but as your King I believe there to be other worthy candidates. I rescind the post of Hand of the King from you."

There was mutterings in the crowd that was in attendance. The dismissal order had not been undergone with much respect towards the Warden of the North. In that crowd contained Lysa Lannister and her children. Eddard had noticed her staring him down when he had originally entered the chamber.

"As you decree your grace." Eddard was all to happy to remove the sigil of the Hand from his doublet.

"After deliberation from the Queen Regent, my mother Cersei of House Lannister, I name my Grandfather Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock Hand of the King and Regent of the Seven Kingdoms until my sixteenth nameday."

That was as expected. The Lannister patriarch was the obvious choice for Hand.

"But there is time until word can arrive to Lord Lannister and preparations must be made to travel to the capital and take his post. I need a worthy councilor in the meantime. Uncle, Lord Lucien Lannister step forth." Joffrey commanded.

Lucien Lannister had arrived with the other council members and stood before the King. Eddard had avoided his gaze thus far with no desire to look at him. Now Lord Lucien stepped forth, the man did not seem surprised about being called foreward.

"Your grace." Lannister addressed his nephew.

"Until Lord Tywin can assume his position, I name you Hand of the King."

Eddard was aware that he may have to present Lucien with the sigil of the Hand, but surprisingly Varys the eunuch interceded. Taking the sigil from Eddard gracefully and presenting it to Lucien.

"I shall serve well your grace, until the true Hand can arrive." Lucien Lannister announced loudly, his voice resonating through the large chamber. He then gave a slight bow towards the boy king.

Now for the difficult part to play. He needed to tie up a loose end before being able to depart Kings Landing freely.

"Your Grace" Eddard addressed Joffrey "There is a matter that I must bring to your attention. I made a pact with your father the late King Robert Baratheon concerning the betrothal of my daughter Sansa to your Grace. My daughter is still young and it would be prudent to return to Winterfell until she come of age."

 _And she shall never return here._ Eddard had been reading Joffrey since he had arrived in the Throne Room and the boy was enjoying the appearance of being in control. If Eddard outright attempted to break the betrothal, a part of Eddard feared the boy would not allow it. _And so I must dishonor myself with a lie. For Sansa's sake. The things we do for love._

Joffrey did not look happy and for a moment Eddard feared that leaving would not be so easy. But Joffrey glanced at his mother for confirmation before relenting "Very well Lord Stark, I expect her to be in Kings Landing on her sixteenth nameday."

It seemed Cersei was all to happy to have Sansa leave.

And then the King continued. "You can be the first, bend the knee Lord Stark and swear loyalty to your King."

Eddard forced himself to his knee and forced himself to lie. He forced himself to swear false loyalty to a bastard boy. It felt as if his mouth was full of mud when he was finished.

The rest of the council followed suit and at long last the session was dismissed.

"In such a hurry to leave?" Eddard heard behind him as he had begun to depart.

Eddard faced Lucien Lannister, the sigil of the Hand pinned to his doublet that he been on Eddard's mere minutes ago.

 _Did you kill Robert? Are you a traitor?_

"I have responsibilities in the North that need my attention."

"As I stated to you years ago. You should have taken my advice and stayed."

"Perhaps, Perhaps not."

"My daughter has told me curious things, how your girls were quickly sent away. And your men have been loading supplies all day like their lives depended on it. Are you not going to stay for the King's funeral?"

 _He is suspicious of me._

"I have mourned for Robert, a service to the Seven will not change that."

"Ah, a pagan. A worshiper of trees. I had forgotten for a moment. You are a strange one Lord Stark, very strange indeed. So strange I almost wish to keep you around to figure you out until you spill all your foreign insights."

Eddard bit back any remark he wanted to say. He needed to leave Kings Landing without issue.

 _So why do you not? Unless you need me to leave? He wants or needs me gone just as much as I want to leave. Eddard's suspicion of Lucien Lannister's personal involvement in treason was increasing by the minute._

"I assure you I am not that interesting Lord Hand. I have a Northern kingdom to look after and I have a duty to report to it in haste."

"Then may you return in haste Lord Stark." And with that Lucien Lannister swept away with long quick strides towards Cersei and King Joffrey and Eddard immediately began marching in the opposite direction. Out of the throne room, out of the Red Keep, to the Ship docked in Blackwater Bay.

* * *

His heart was pounding until Kings Landing disappeared behind him. It was a long journey to Winterfell, it would leave Eddard with time to think. Almost too much.

His King was dead, he had received insight on treachery, and he may have just handed the Kingdom over to Robert's murderers. And he had lied. Sworn an oath on his honor towards a lie.

 _I had no leverage, I had no choice._ If he told it to himself enough, he may begin to believe it.

He would ensure his family was safe. Catelyn was due to arrive back at Winterfell, she had a week's head start on him although she was on foot and he was departing by ship. His daughters were safe, Sansa was disheartened and Arya impatient on being confined to a cabin for a long stretch of time. But they were safe.

After his family was out of harm's way, he would see if Petyr Baelish's word was true. The longer he thought on it, the more likely it seemed that the Lannister's were murders.

He would have to take the arrogance and snide comments on the cheek in the political arena, but Lord Eddard Stark would be damned before he let Lucien Lannister get away with regicide. Or House Lannister as a whole for attempting to murder his son.

It was incredible how a span of one day could change so much. How he, Lord Eddard Stark would leave Kings Landing with information that could fracture the continent.


	14. Lucien IV Tywin I Lysa IV

**Lucien**

 _He looks far more impressive while dead._ That was the impression he had while staring at the corpse of King Robert Baratheon. For the last several years King Robert had not taken great care of his physical image. But now for his own funeral in the Great Sept of Baelor, he was dressed as richly as any King should be.

 _The end of an era, the beginning of much more._ Lucien looked over towards Joffrey, the new king. The boy did seem genuinely effected by his father Robert's death at first. But it seems his succession towards King was causing him to quickly recover. Or at least the boy would have the illusion of authority as long as Tywin Lannister lived. Cersei did not keep a close enough hold on her son and that was a matter of some concern. But, it should not be anything that Lord Tywin could not handle.

Lucien's father had arrived in the capital to take his place as Hand of the King and Regent of the Seven Kingdoms. Lucien was all too eager to hand over the office to his father. There was time for Lord Tywin to mold Joffrey into a great king.

 _And I will have no hand in it. I wash my hands clean of this disgusting city. Everything has fallen into place. I have done my duty, more than anyone will ever know._

Like every highborn in Kings Landing, as well as many more Lords who travelled, Lucien Lannister had arrived to pay his respects to the departed King.

 _We are all charlatans. There is only one man who truly regrets this death and he is not here._

One week prior, Robert Baratheon died in the early hours of a morning, and Eddard Stark had departed the city before the sun set on the same day. No man should have been able to depart so quickly without ample motivation.

His wife stood by his side now, playing the part of looking sorrowful over the loss of the fat oaf of a King. His children Philippa and Gerrion were present as well, although they were oblivious to their parent's apathy over the King's death.

Philippa specifically had been quite distraught of late. It seems she did care for the Stark girl who had left the city. Her mood exceeded simple disappointment. Philippa usually brightened every room she occupied, but she had not been herself since she had informed her father about her last meeting with Sansa Stark.

"It is temporary." He had told his daughter in hopes of comforting her. "Eddard Stark has sworn that Lady Sansa will marry Joffrey, and whatever we may think of Stark, that man holds himself to his vows. Sansa will be Queen you can be sure of that."

Philippa had not been reassured, "It was no mere goodbye. Sansa was confused and in tears. She was forcefully removed from court, and two things forced apart are rarely able to be mended back together seamlessly."

Seamless or not, the Stark girl would be Queen to ensure the North was placated and brought to heel if they ever thought about involving themselves in Southern affairs.

He had also addressed a similar issue with Lysa, who like himself, had been concerned about Stark's departure.

"Lord Stark was up to something" she had told him in private "My sister traveled all the way to Kings Landing for what? As Hand of the King you could have prevented his departure. Extracted the truth from the source."

He almost had, and yet at the same time he preferred Eddard Stark far away from Kings Landing. There was no desire to have a man loyal to Robert nearby after what had just transpired. Additionally, despite the remoteness of Winterfell, detaining the Warden of the North is not an action to be taken lightly. Wars had been sparked from less forceful actions.

And so because it was in Lucien's best interest, Eddard Stark was allowed to depart. Eddard's actions in Kings Landing were bizarre to say the least. Initially, Lucien feared Eddard was visiting Robert's bastard Gendry in order to install a new heir to the throne without Lannister tendencies. Joffrey had taken far more from his mother in terms of looks and temperament. Lucien's assumed this theory of his was far-fetched, but with his work coming to a close so soon, Lucien found himself paranoid towards the slightest threat that had the potential to send his efforts crashing down.

 _It is irrelevant, whatever Stark intended does not matter. Joffrey is the King beyond all question, with a Lannister regent. The great Houses of the South will be solidifying alliances, the North will soon be sated and inconsequential._

Lucien took one last glance at the corpse of Robert Baratheon. It always seems the greatest accomplishments were never recognized. They were done in secret. It was no small feat that Lucien Lannister was able to attend the King's funeral. He had covered his tracks and tied up loose ends. Robert had provided the perfect cover with his excessive drinking. There had been no orders from his father. Lucien had simply taken initiative and the risk had paid off.

In truth, Robert was projected to die several days after he did. But the slow acting process had been accelerated by the King's poor health.

 _You were great once, with your youthful charisma and swinging the mighty Warhammer. It is a shame what became of you. I only regret secrecy and necessity got in the way. I would have preferred putting a sword to your neck in battle as opposed to ensuring poison went down your throat._

The King's death by drink appeased most people. The more cleaver ones probably suspected foul play, perhaps even suspect Lucien specifically. But they would have no proof. No one but Eddard Stark and the Baratheon brothers would come to Robert's defense. But they were all ignorant and far away from the capital.

The only loose end, the Grand Maester, was dead. Pycelle had delivered the poison slowly and discreetly and served his purpose. But when committing regicide, there could be no chances taken. An old man dying suddenly would surprise no one, and Pycelle's loyalty to House Lannister was not known. The elderly man was feeble, and it was entirely plausible when his body supposedly failed him and he had taken a fall down a flight of steps, resulting in a broken neck.

 _My father will not need Pycelle anyway, the advantages from the assassination far outstrip the loss of one informant._

The sufficient time for paying respects had ended and Lucien Lannister left the corpse of his victim behind him.

* * *

 **Tywin**

His son had done what was asked of him. Tywin knew full well that Lucien's placement in King's Landing would be frustrating for him. But he had accomplished more than most would have.

Very rarely did his second born son ever fail him. Lucien had always been eager and willing to please his father, in truth there was little more Tywin could have asked for in an heir. At the very least he surpassed his other siblings. Jaime had been negligent of his family duties, Cersei thought too highly of herself and was too impulsive, and the dwarf wasted his natural intelligence by playing the fool. Of course Lucien had his faults, he was arrogant and prideful. But being born into the richest family in the seven kingdoms would install those faults into any man.

The death of Gregor Clegane had enraged him when he first heard of it, and Cersei had written him about it in a way that framed Lucien as a fool.

Lucien had defended himself with fervor on the day that Tywin arrived. "The brute attempted to publicly murder Loras Tyrell in the middle of a tourney. Olenna and Margery Tyrell were in attendance. The attempted murder of a Tyrell boy by one of our bannerman could have torn this alliance and marriage to pieces. Which is of more use? A barely controllable beast of a man, or a Tyrell army, the economic advantages of an alliance, and future benefit between our Houses that can not be measured. That act could not go unpunished. The Tyrells would never have accepted gold, if I maimed him what use would he have been? I killed him and I would have done it again. With Joffrey as King, Sandor Clegane can take his brother's place as our rabid dog."

The argument was enough for Tywin to let the execution slide. After all it was Gregor's failure, not Lucien's.

The death of Robert Baratheon was very beneficial for House Lannister, beneficial enough for Tywin to suspect his children may have had a hand in it. If they did it was inconsequential, Robert the Usurper had painfully few allies loyal to him. King Robert would become a distant memory and the Lannister's legacy would extend through the crown for generations to come.

Tywin had chaffed for too long under the Mad King, he would bring this boy king to heel and ensure this prime opportunity was not wasted.

His son Lucien had been all too willing to hand over the office of the Hand to him. It did not surprise Tywin in the slightest, he knew what Lucien really wanted. It was what any heir of House Lannister would want. Men far younger and less intelligent had held the position that he had craved for years.

As a young boy Lucien had followed his mother Joanna everywhere. Initially it had irritated Tywin, believing that his wife was coddling the boy. At seven years old the boy was bright, kind, and completely attached to his mother. Everyone who ever met the young lad would comment on how sweet he was.

And then Joanna died in a bed of blood and the result on her second son was plain to see.

Lucien latched onto his father with similar fervor, and it turned him into the man he is today.

There was no trace of Joanna Lannister left in Lucien, he was his father's son.

And the father's son entered the Hand's chambers. He had shed the black clothes he had worn for the funeral and was dressed very richly. He confidently approached his father with the aura of a powerful and wealthy man.

 _He makes such an effort to appear in control when we meet._ Nearly everyone who spoke with Lord Tywin was uneasy. Tywin was completely used to it, and his children had always been cautious around him. Lucien had learned over time how to act in his father's presence, but he was likely nervous in this moment. Lucien was clearly going to ask him for a place of power.

Lucien observed Tywin's office, it had been set up precisely how it had looked when Tywin was Hand of the King for Aerys. "It is like you never left." He remarked as he took his seat opposite Tywin.

Tywin cut straight to buisness "All the necessary information from your tenure in the city has been transferred to me. What is it you need?"

Lucien almost smiled, as if he appreciated the blunt response. "The King is underage and you rule as regent, my position as adviser to the king is obsolete. You do not require my counsel here."

"Indeed." Said Tywin matter-of-factly "You are eager to depart."

"My place is not here, you are well aware of what I am asking of you."

"You do not simply wish to return, you want Lordship of Casterly Rock."

Lucien continued confidently "Ser Kevan is a fine Castellan, but I am your son and heir. You yourself have prepared me for this all my life. You shall put the Crown on the path to greatness, and I shall strengthen the Westerlands."

Tywin looked his son in the eyes and saw the determination staring back at him. Tywin knew his son well, and he had little doubt at that moment that his son had killed Robert Baratheon for this opportunity. Lucien respected his father, but as the Hand of the King Tywin would be placated and Lucien could rule himself. The motive may have been mixed with selfishness, but it had undoubtedly aided the family.

Lucien continued. "I have served faithfully for years. Whatever was asked of me I did without question. When the Iron Born burned our fleet and raided our lands I paid them back in blood and proclaimed to all of Westeros that I am to be feared. When you expected results in Kings Landing I provided them, despite an imbecilic King and an incompetent council. I am worthy. I am your son in more than blood, but in temperament. I am your true son and I will install prosperity to Casterly Rock and strengthen the dynasty that you have labored your entire life to uphold."

"I do not expect to see Casterly Rock before I die." Tywin said simply. "And the kingdoms must be strong while I bring respectability back to the Crown. You shall depart for Casterly Rock in two days' time. And you shall take on the Lordship of Casterly Rock, become the Shield of Lannisport, and the Warden of the West. Serve Lord Lannister, and we shall enforce the King's peace."

* * *

 **Lysa: Six Months Later**

Everything seemed to be going too well. Her husband was Lord of Casterly Rock and her family was whole again. Philippa had left the awful capital and Gerrion had finished his service as a squire for Ser Jaime. His reputation for skill in combat had spread throughout the seven kingdoms. On his fifteenth nameday he had wed Margery Tyrell in Highgarden and solidified an alliance between the Reach and the Westerlands. Lysa had fought tears in her eyes watching her eldest child being wed, he looked so handsome and strong. Margery was with her young husband in Casterly Rock, and although Lysa was naturally suspicious of her, the beautiful girl had done nothing to warrant scrutiny.

All the members of her family were together in Casterly Rock. The younger children were progressing well, they were healthy and happy. Even Brynden, her sick little boy was showing signs of improvement. The Maester said he expected to boy to survive and live a normal life. Lucien had given a genuine smile when she had told him. She could no longer provide him more children, but he did not give her any less attention and affection because of it.

Her initial fears proved to be unfounded. Lucien had all but confided in her in advance that he was going to kill Robert Baratheon. And after the King died she had been a nervous wreck when she pieced together his admission in hindsight. However no trouble developed at all. Robert Baratheon was now infamously known for drinking himself to death, and if anyone knew otherwise they apparently did not give a damn.

Those fears had subsided, but new suspicions had taken their place. Lucien had tasked her with establishing influence in the Riverlands, with her father and the Tully bannermen as well.

The Lannister-Tyrell alliance had increased commerce and trade and it was making both houses even richer than they had been originally. Lord Lucien intended to accomplish much of the same in the Riverlands, and was using his wife's origin as an opportunity.

She had traveled to Riverrun and the meetings had gone quite well. Her father was nearly incomprehensible, some ailment had afflicted him in his age. So she had treated with her brother Edmure and met with her Uncle Brynden the Blackfish as well. But while the proposal was met with initial enthusiasm, following letters had grown much colder. As if circumstances had changed that she was not aware of.

And the North was always a source of unease. Lucien made it clear that without Stark's position as Hand of the King, the North was of little consequence.

"It has been months Lysa" Lucien had said "Whatever we observed from the Starks was likely internal conflict, or plots that are inconsequential without the aid of the late King Robert. The new king is in our control. Do not worry yourself with that frozen wasteland and its people."

Lysa had written to Catelyn regularly. Part of it was simply to contact her, but also to gauge her sister's reaction to her. The responses she received were very calculated and measured. Catelyn Stark was clearly averse to opening up about anything.

And those worries culminated on one night. The rain was coming down in sheets and the thunder boomed as she ran over ledgers pertaining to the management of Casterly Rock.

"Lady Lysa." She turned to see Tyrion Lannister standing outside of the doorway. His normal joking attitude was gone. "Your husband has need of us in his solar." The seriousness of his voice sent a chill down her spine.

As soon as Lucien had arrived as Lord he had ridden Tyrion hard. "You have intelligence beyond the common man, I will not have you waste it." Lucien had told Tyrion in irritation. It was probably the closest thing to a compliment his brother had ever given him.

And Tyrion had risen to the occasion, behind the ugly face was a brilliant mind. Still despite his usefulness, Tyrion had little respect for his brother and it pissed Lucien off to no end. But tonight the dwarf was deadly serious.

They arrived in the solar and it was crowded. Lucien was staring out the window and Ser Kevan was speaking to him in whispers. Gerrion was attempting to look confident in front of his wife Margery. The Tyrell girl's presence was odd. Lucien's Aunt Genna was present as well. Tyrion waddled over to the corner and Lysa took a seat.

"Tyrion has returned" she heard Genna say.

Lucien turned away from the window and there was an edge to his eyes.

"There is treachery here in the seven kingdoms." He said, and Lysa's worst fears came true.

"I have been informed that Lord Stark has called his banners. He rides south as I speak."

The room was deadly quiet. Lysa later got a look at the letter that contained the information about Stark summoning the banners. It was in Lucien's own handwriting, which meant that he deciphered the information himself through a coded message. He had an informant in Stark's general vicinity.

"This information was obtained this morning, and the motive for such a drastic action was unclear…until I received this."

He held the opened letter as if it were a disgusting pile of shit. The seal was broken and Lysa saw it was from House Baratheon.

Lucien read the letter aloud with pure malice, it nearly came out as a hiss. Those assembled listened in absolute shock. Interestingly, Lysa noticed Tyrion did not seem as surprised by some of the information in the letter.

"All men know me for the trueborn son of Steffon Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End. I am Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone. I declare upon the honor of my house that my departed brother King Robert left no true born children. The boys Joffrey and Tommen, and the girl Myrcella are abominations born of incest between Cersei Lannister and her brother Jaime the Kingslayer. For centuries Baratheon's have wed Lannisters and the offspring of these unions has been dominated by Baratheon features including black hair. This has been consistent for six unions. The departed Robert left eight known bastards, all of which carried the distinctive black hair of their father. One need only look at Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella to see that they are pure Lannister. By right of birth and blood, I do this day lay claim to the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. Let all true men declare their loyalty…...From a dead man, Stannis of house fucking Baratheon."

Lucien threw the letter onto his desk in anger.

"Liar! Traitor! See that bastard dead!" Gerrion spoke in rage.

There was an outbreak of discussion, Lysa missed some of it. She was in complete shock.

"No doubt this filth has been distributed to every House in the Seven Kingdoms." Lucien spoke with authority. "We will ensure that any House under our influence sees it for the lie that it is. Stannis Baratheon will be destroyed along with anyone who dares to follow him."

Lysa thought of the Tully family's sudden change in mood towards House Lannister, and she felt as if there was ash in her mouth and it was beginning to block her lungs.

"Lord Lannister" Margery spoke "I shall write to my father. Rest assured they shall see this proclamation for the slander that it is."

"Good sent it with haste." Lucien said assertively. "Now is the time for the Great Houses to come together. To defend against this evil accusation, and to support King Joffrey, the one true King."


	15. Lucien V

**Lucien: One Month Later**

He stalked down the halls of Riverrun. It had been many years since he had visited the home of his wife's family. When he was sixteen he had ridden here with his father and a host of loyal bannermen. It seemed ages ago, nearly another life.

Now he had marched here with a much larger host and for an entirely different reason. It was not for convincing Lord Hoster to give away his daughter, it was for warfare, and he left fire and chaos behind him.

His family had been defamed and insulted. Declaring Cersei's children products of incest could not have been more scandalous or blunt, and the Tullys of Riverrun had believed every word about the malicious lies spread about his sister and brother.

Pride and reputation was everything. His father Lord Tywin had burned that into his brain when Lucien was still a young boy who liked to cling to his mother's skirts, listen to her songs, and would have never hurt a fly. The fact that he had married Lord Hoster's daughter meant very little in the end. Treachery towards the Crown and House Lannister had to be repaid.

He could be merciful. For Lysa's sake he allowed Edmure Tully to live. He would spend the rest of his days in the bowels of Casterly Rock. But he would live, and Lysa would see to his welfare. Lord Hoster had been struck by some ailment and was completely incomprehensible. He writhed about in bed and seemed to rant to himself. The maester in charge of his care acknowledged that he would soon die, and Lucien arranged for his wife's father to drink an elixir that brought about a painless death and ended the man's suffering. Lord Hoster was not the main culprit, no doubt the seeds of rebellion had been acted upon by Edmure or his uncle 'The Blackfish'.

It was the second major war that Lucien would actively participate in, and the first of his reign as Warden of the West. His mutual ally in the North had tipped him off when the Stark's had raised their banners, and so he had to act decisively and quickly.

He had sent a modest portion of forces to fortify Kings Landing, his allies the Tyrells had done the same. With Kings Landing under reasonable protection, he was confident that his father Lord Tywin could withstand any assault from Stannis Baratheon at nearby Dragonstone.

Stannis Baratheon may have seemed to start this war, but he had numerous problems. It was rumored that he was feuding with his brother Renly, who seemed to have been campaigning for support from the Lords in the Stormlands in order to assume their support over his elder brother.

 _That useless bloody idiot served some use for me after all. You are the younger brother. If Jaime had never joined the Kingsguard I would have known my place and served him. As Uncle Kevan served Father all those years. Insubordinate younger siblings will divide a House, and a House divided will fall in times of war._

On top of this, Gerrion Lannister's marriage into the Tyrells had proven to be the most useful marriage in recent history. The Reach held the largest army of the seven kingdoms. With the great military commander Randyll Tarly, the Reach had sent their forces to pacify the Stormlands and stamp out any potential support that Stannis Baratheon could summon to his cause. The Redwyne fleet had also been sent with the intent of either assaulting Dragonstone, or at the very least delaying a naval assault on Kings Landing.

Lucien's own navy stood at the ready at Lannisport. It was insurance against a possible invasion from Balon Greyjoy. A war bred chaos, and it may be enough to encourage the Iron Isles to profit while the other great houses were distracted.

 _Try it Greyjoy you swine. You base bastard. My garrison in the Westerlands are prepared for you. We would throw you back and drown each and every one of you. You would not grow back this time. Robert Baratheon did not go far enough. The Iron Islanders are weeds. Cut the top of the weed and it will grow back, but pull it out root and stem and the problem is solved forever._

If the Vale had supported the Crown, then Lucien could have ended the North's assault decisively. But there was no army from the Vale marching. The Vale and its young Lord Aryan was silent as a crypt. The same Lord who had denied his precious Philippa's hand in marriage.

 _You insolent little fool. When the great southern houses are united when this war is over, your inaction will not be forgotten, it will follow you for the rest of your days. And the number may be very short._

With the Stark forces marching, Lucien had to be ready to meet House Stark in the field while also being aware of the progress from the rest of the war. In order to do this he needed a consistent base of operations to send letters to his father and receive them in return.

And Riverrun was placed in the perfect location for such a base, and Lucien could wage war in the Riverlands as opposed to his own land.

He had used Lysa in the past to improve relations with the Riverlands, when the talks with the Tullys went sour and then silent, their intentions towards his House became clear in hindsight.

He sent a letter to Riverrun demanding their denouncement of Stannis' claims and to summon their forces to repel the coming Stark host. But at the same time he had Lysa send a letter to every lesser House in the Riverlands. That proved to be very effective. Whether it be general conviction or greed, several houses remained loyal to the Crown. Some of these houses traded with the Westerlands, or were not fond with Tully leadership. Perhaps they also believed Lucien would reward their loyalty, perhaps even give them Riverrun.

This division threw the area into chaos, and with an organized army Lucien marched his forces straight through the Riverlands towards Riverrun. He also sent Sandor Clegane, the new Lord after his brother's execution, to burn and spread chaos on the lands of Lords who defied Lucien's demands. The big hulking man was no proper Lord, but he was useful for warfare. Tywin had used Gregor as his rabid dog, now Lucien had has own mutt to command.

The response to these attacks caused the first major battle. He was opposed by Lords Vance and Piper and a hastily assembled host. Lucien rode in the vanguard and annihilated them, atop his horse he cut down men as easily as a knife cuts through warm butter. The Lannister forces loved seeing their Lord take such a proactive involvement in the war. His reputation among his men increased greatly that day. The Lannister forces then continued on their way with little resistance.

If Edmure Tully had been smart, he would have fortified Riverrun and held out until the Stark forces could provide him relief, but Lucien put Lysa's insight towards her brother to good use. According to her, during her meetings with him, Edmure had always been impatient and caved under pressure from the populace.

Lucien decided to live up to his dark reputation. In the end it would cause a shorter war and save lives in the long run.

 _It is for the greater good._

He began terrorizing the small folk around Riverrun. Survivors cried out to their Lord and their Lord foolishly responded. Edmure even tried to save face by leading the attack himself. Perhaps he thought he would become a great savior for the small folk.

He lost badly, and the failed attack left an opening that ensured that Riverrun yielded quickly enough. The walls of Riverrun could not repeal the Lannister's overwhelming force when their own garrison was undermanned due to the misguided effort to relieve the small folk.

Now Lord Edmure was a prisoner in his own castle, and the Blackfish seemed to have been lost in the chaos. Lucien had conquered the Riverlands quickly and decisively. The Lannisters were perfectly situated to repel the Northmen's invasion, who were likely reaching the tip of the Neck.

His son Gerrion had ridden with him during this campaign. The fifteen year old boy had an incredible reputation for swordsmanship, but he had never seen war before. Lucien ensured he had a sizable escort and was away from the majority of the fighting. Despite this, his son's youthful arrogance had drained away after making his first personal kill and seeing many others die as well.

"Only the mad take pleasure in killing foot soldiers." He had told his son. "You may have rivalries, and the deaths of those rivals will satisfy you. But many men in war fight simply because their Lord or King demand it of them. I am fully aware that there is nothing like watching a man die. The men you killed today will not be the last, but every battle increases your ability and strength of will. A Lord must be able to dispense death, that is why you are here and not behind the walls of Casterly Rock. You need to see and participate in war. We have a duty to defend our land, men, and above all else our family. Together we will accomplish this. You did well my son."

His son was not his only noteworthy companion in this conflict. His uncle Kevan served Tywin for many battles, and now he served Tywin's son just as faithfully.

Lucien's brothers also would have key positions during the war. As much as Lucien did not like it, Tyrion was clever and would do well when forced to perform. He would have been a fool to deny his intelligent brother an impact in the running of Casterly Rock in a time of crisis.

"This is war." Lucien had said to Tyrion before he departed. "The time for whores and drunkenness has passed. You claim to be underappreciated? I have need of you, succeed and you will be rewarded."

Lysa would keep a close eye on Tyrion while Lucien was away.

His brother Jaime was a much more active participant in the war. Despite being in the Kingsguard, he had ridden to meet Lucien and take up a command in the Lannister army. The two brothers could put their animosity aside, this was war after all and Jaime was a capable commander. With Lucien leading a force and Jaime leading another, Tywin Lannister's sons would prove themselves on the battlefield.

Stannis Baratheon's words were certainly self serving lies, but Lucien would hear its faults straight from the accused.

"Stannis Baratheon's declaration." Lucien said when alone with his elder brother. He made sure Jaime was looking him dead in the eyes. Jaime seemed to never take anything seriously, but Lucien would not tolerate insolence now. "They are lies. Look me in the eye and tell me they are lies."

Jaime and Cersei were always close with one another, but such reckless and selfish action was inconceivable. All Cersei had to do was conceive for Robert Baratheon, she could not have failed so spectacularly.

"Is that an order my Lord?" Jaime said "Stannis' claims would make him the King, how convenient for him. I have never committed such actions. Never."

The two King slaying brothers looked at each other for a moment before dropping the subject entirely.

 _Stannis lies. Stark backs the lie. The fault of this war is theirs, and the deaths from the war are on their heads._

For all his wealth and all his power he had to dance to their tune of war, and he would ensure the both of them paid for this. Neither would walk away with their honor or lives, he would see to that.

Most of all, they had forced him to depart from the ones he truly cared about. Most men assumed Lucien cold with no hint of emotion anywhere. They were wrong, he simply buried it deep down. Perhaps too deep. Kissing his daughters and wife goodbye as he marched off to war had been very difficult.

He now stood in the Great Hall in Riverrun. It was where he had seen Lysa for the first time. How she had prattled on and on that night. That stupid dopey grin and laugh that had long since passed by. Those little things had irritated him then, but how amusing they were in hindsight. A hint of a sad smile came across his face.

Now Lannister troops were everywhere in the hall. They bowed and addressed him as Lord as he passed. When he had first taken the castle, the men had taken to singing the 'Reins of Castamere' in the Hall. It was clear his men saw him as a worthy successor to the great Lord Tywin.

He passed the place on the table where he had talked with Lysa that first night. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that the dopey young Tully girl would mature and steal his heart of stone.

Or that he would return to her family's home as a conqueror.

 _I take no pleasure in war, I do what is needed of me, no more no less. But I am lying to myself if I am not eager to meet Eddard Stark in the field. Everything had been situated perfectly for lasting peace and economic prosperity, and then that man becomes involved in a conspiracy to stain my House's name forever. How dare he! Come now Stark, I killed Robert Baratheon, the other hero of the Rebellion. I will be sure you know that before the end. It is time for you to join him. You are a wolf are you not? Well I am waiting you self righteous son of a bitch. Come to me!_


	16. Lysa V Catelyn IV Eddard VI

**Lysa**

 _Family Duty Honor_

 _Family Duty Honor_

 _Family Duty Honor_

 _Family Duty Honor_

The words repeated in her mind over and over and over again. They would not leave her alone, so much so that she could not sleep soundly. It was a constant invasion and it felt as if cold fingers were pressing down onto her spine and needles were pricking her skull.

 _And it should be. The Tully family words should never leave me. May they haunt me for the rest of my days._

Her son Brynden was on her lap, completely oblivious to his mother's distress. He had been so sickly and frail, and she had cared and prayed for him to the point of exhaustion. Now he was a healthy boy, and Lysa believed that her prayers were answered. The miracle had caused her to believe in the gods of her childhood again.

Except for his green eyes, her son could have passed as a Tully. Even his name, Brynden, was from the Riverlands. She had named the boy after her strong uncle Brynden the Blackfish.

 _Did my uncle survive? Or did my husband's army end his life? Did Lucien himself kill him, and if he did would he ever tell me?_

Everyone in Casterly Rock, from the highborn to the servants cheered when the news from Riverrun arrived. Lord Lucien Lannister, the Warden of the West had delivered a decisive victory against traitors to the crown. They did not do so in her presence of course, but she knew very well it occurred. It was widespread enough that even her younger daughters were excited about the constant praise their father received.

 _Lucien was never popular and he never sought the approval of anyone but his father. Well Lord Tywin would certainly approve of this, the old lion may have even smiled when he heard the news. The devastation of my childhood lands has made Lucien beloved here._

There were only a few people in all of Casterly Rock that did not seem to fully enjoy the news of the Lannister's overwhelming victory.

Lady Margery, as always, was respectful and polite. On the surface she seemed supportive of House Lannister, but Lysa had doubts that Margery's cares had extended to her husband Gerrion's House. Margery was far more concerned with the Tyrell's campaign against the Baratheons.

 _Lucien and Tywin's grand plan to see the southern houses united largely failed. They are warring with each other and the realm will bleed._

Of course, one of Margery's handmaidens was in no celebratory mood either. Mira Forrester was of the North, and the fact that her family likely marched with Eddard Stark was no small scandal. Lysa ensured her daughters stayed far away from the young handmaiden.

Lysa's older daughters Philippa and Sile were old enough to be clued in on their mother's sadness. It was a small comfort, but a welcome one.

But the far more shocking event took place the day the news from Riverrun had arrived.

Lord Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, the brother that Lucien had decried as selfish and depraved had been the first and only person to publicly offer his sympathies to her for her former House.

"My lady, I wish to offer you my sincere sympathies. House Tully is a great and noble house, I do not wish to see you in despair." The Imp said to her. Without the subject matter it would have been comical as he needed to look straight up to look at her. He had the appearance of being genuine with his words.

Lysa had been shocked. _The Imp is playing games with me._ She thought to herself. _He hates Lucien and wants to rile me up against him, or Tyrion wants a specific reaction from me, or he will poke into an open wound until I squirm or scream._

"My husband did what was needed of him." Lysa responded, she neither lied nor revealed her thoughts.

Tyrion simply looked up at her "I am sure he did. He always did what he thinks he needs to do. It is my brother's best and worst quality. He fights for what is his and damns everyone else."

He then began to walk away, or rather waddle away. His stunted legs made natural movement very difficult for him. It was a surreal moment, and caused it her to pay closer attention to the youngest and smallest Lord of Lannister.

As the days went on, Lysa found herself spending more and more time with her son Brynden.

 _Perhaps it is his Tully hair, my mind is constantly reminding me, forcing me to never forget._

 _Family Duty Honor…But what if your family is divided. What if your father and brother move against your husband who you have come to love? With whom you have had your children. What is your duty then? Is there any honor that can be found?_

 _It was Lucien's own duty. His family demanded it of him and he delivered on that duty. He will imprison Edmure forever._

Lucien had written the letter to her himself. He declared that her father had passed away and that her brother would be transferred to Casterly Rock when the war was over. She had burned the letter as soon as she read it. She had to keep a neutral face in public, after all, nearly everyone else in the Lannister fortress was in good spirits. Lysa had never felt so foreign in the Rock, and made an effort to despair in complete private.

The capture of Riverrun was bad enough, but Lysa knew the true lasting impact of this war.

The Tully name would die out. Lucien would ensure that Edmure spent his years in isolation and that he would never reproduce. Then Riverrun would either be given to a Lannister supporter or the Lannisters themselves would claim it.

Lysa noticed that she was thinking of the Lannisters as distinct from herself, she had not done that for years. She looked down at her son.

 _Tully features, even a Tully name. Riverrun may very well be given to him._

How many years had Lysa not given half a thought to the Tully family? How many years had she bathed herself in riches and focused solely on her husband? It seemed the gods were playing a cruel joke on her and turned everything upside down. Lysa had never forgiven her father for the abortion he had forced upon her. But if he had not, then Lysa would have never wed Lucien. Lord Tywin would not have wed his heir to a girl who had already birthed a bastard. To see Hoster Tully's life's work crumble in less than a month was unsettling.

 _What will happen in this war?_ Lysa dared to wonder. _Will my husband now kill my sister's husband, return to me, and act as if nothing had ever happened._

Lysa could not bring herself to curse her husband. It was expected of him, he needed to win this war. But nothing would be the same. She almost felt as she did after Lucien had told her off on their wedding night. When she had been a naive fool who did not understand the world. It seemed her eyes were opened once again.

 _I am a Lannister of Casterly Rock, my children are my husband's legacy. But I cannot forget my roots, I cannot and I will not._

Lysa could not curse Lucien, but she could curse herself. It would have been dreadful to simply stand aside and absorb these reports. But Lucien had utilized her as a weapon. He had asked her about everything related to Riverrun and its surrounding lands. She told him about Edmure's personality and she wrote many letters to the Lords of the Riverlands. She had known some of them for years and she knew how to talk to each of them, how to sway them to the crown.

She was an accomplice in the downfall of House Tully. _What would Lucien honestly have done if I had denied him?_

For these last days she had bathed herself in self-doubt. Towards herself, her husband, her entire life. Of course she was eager for a scapegoat, but she would have been deplorable to not look in on herself first.

Nevertheless, she seethed in hatred towards whomever would have been involved in the origin of the war that had caused all of this. The first culprits were easy:

 _Stannis Baratheon and Eddard Stark, Lord Eddard was up to something. His actions in Kings Landing were highly irregular. We should have stopped him there. Held him in Kings Landing and questioned him. We suspected him, and yet Lucien let him walk away._

 _And Cat came all the way down to Kings Landing. What the hell was that about? What could she have been so involved in?_

Lysa picked up her toddler who giggled with glee, but her mind remained elsewhere.

A darker thought was burrowing in her mind.

Lucien was enraged at the contents of Stannis' claims. That Cersei and Jaime Lannister conceived Robert Baratheon's supposed children. Lucien seemed absolutely convinced that this accusation was false…but what if they were true? What if Lucien was unknowingly backing a lie? Or if he knew and defended his family anyway? What if Lysa's life had turned to turmoil due to Cersei and the Kingslayer's infidelity?

Lysa had no love at all for Cersei. If Stannis' claims were true, then Lannister or not, Lysa would not stand aside. She would be subtle however. It would need to be secret and untraceable, but she would find a way to see the Queen and Ser Jaime meet a brutal end.

 _A Lannister always pays their debts._

* * *

 **Catelyn**

Winterfell was painfully silent. So many men had left to march south in the effort to put the rightful King on the throne. Those who remained seemed to have very little to say and all they did say revolved on the coming war and on the men who had departed.

She had returned to Winterfell to have Ned return with the daughters not long after. That should have been the end of their problems.

But Ned had confided in her his revelations, and after months of planning he set back off to the south. This time with the army of the North at his back.

During Eddard's first war, Catelyn had wondered about his safety. But at the time she had barely known him long enough to conceive Robb. When the Greyjoy Rebellion had occurred years later, it had torn at her heart to see him leave. This one was the worst of all, because she knew exactly what was standing in his way.

"Stay north Ned, please." She had begged him "You were fortunate to escape that place with our daughters and yourself intact. Do not tempt the Stranger. The Iron Throne does not matter here. You are needed here. I need you here."

She could not sway him, nor could she sway Robb, who absolutely refused to stay in Winterfell while his father marched to war. It was the only time that Catelyn could recall their eldest son blatantly defying her. She tossed and turned at night, dreaming of the two of them dying on a field of battle, with Lucien Lannister and his son standing over the corpses with red stained swords and wicked smiles. Ned had spent most of his life fighting southern wars, and now he would do so again. Eventually if he continued, Catelyn knew there would come a point where he would not return.

Her daughters had been changed by their experiences in Kings Landing. Sansa had taken a long time accepting that her previous infatuation had been towards a product of incest. It curled Cat's lip to think of that boy being anywhere near her daughter. Sansa also found it particularly difficult to rationalize House Lannister as an enemy, her friendship with the eldest Lannister daughter had run very deep. On the other hand, Arya was growing wilder than ever.

 _It could be worse for them._ Catelyn thought. _They very easily could have been trapped in Kings Landing, and gods know what would have become of them._

With Eddard and Robb going to war, Brandon was officially the acting Lord of Winterfell. Of course he was just a boy and Catelyn ran Winterfell in all but name. Sweet Brandon had always been dear to her heart, and he confided in her that he had strange dreams that seemed to intensify by the day.

It had fallen on her to care for her children and lead Winterfell. Maester Luwin was a great help, but Catelyn was not in the right state of mind to be particularly effective.

It would only get worse, much worse.

Until the day she died, Catelyn never forgot the moment in her bedchamber when Maester Luwin had handed her that damned letter.

The letter with the seal of the Lion of Lannister.

Catelyn's first instinct was to spit on it and throw it onto the fire. But she could not bring herself to do it. Lysa had written her in the past, but the seal did not match those letters. This letter looked far more official, it was from the Lord of Lannister himself. And it was addressed to her personally.

Catelyn found herself tearing open the letter with fervor. After reading it she had screamed so horribly that Maester Luwin had burst into the room in a panic.

The letter read as follows:

"Lady Catelyn of the House Stark, formally of the extinct House Tully. I am in confidence that this letter will reach you. By all reports you are a strong and determined woman, you must be in order to bear what I am about to tell you. I do not doubt you are eager for news on the war. After all, your husband marches towards me, and I shall greet him with the hospitality he is due.

I write this letter from your father Lord Hoster's personal study. I am a fair man, so I laid your father to rest under the water as Tully tradition demands. His corpse lays submerged in the Trident where the fish eat away at his flesh and swim through his bones. What a backwards custom that is, but the man did provide me your sister in marriage, so I did owe him some measure of respect towards his traditions. When I found him abed he was thrashing in pain and moaning the queerest things. It is the cruelest thing for a man or woman to lose their mind. I was sympathetic, and I granted him the mercy of a quick death.

His lands will not be so lucky, your girlhood home and castle are mine and I shall use them at my pleasure. The Riverland army is destroyed, and your brother Edmure will be entrusted to my care for the remainder of his days.

I did not wish such an outcome, but my hand was forced. Edmure Tully defied his rightful King, and for that I have seen that his line will be extinguished.

Now your husband defies and marches against me. I warned him of the consequences of his interference years ago, and he still fails to understand. I expected a woman of your stature to talk sense to him. It appears you failed.

Stannis Baratheon will soon be dead, and your husband's nefarious plot will have failed. Eddard Stark's fate is sealed. His destiny lies with me, and if he does not fall in battle, then I will hold him closely. But you need not suffer unnecessarily. When the Northern army falls, it will stay down, you shall see to that. Implore the new Lord of Winterfell to see reason and bend the knee to King Joffrey, the one true King.

If you do not do this, then I will have no choice. Stark will be executed by my own hand. The Stark way is the old way. The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword. I honored your father's customs and I will honor your husband's as well if the North does not remain subordinate and you do not listen. Then I shall return to Winterfell with the might of the Crown behind me. You shall survive, to wallow in the consequences of your treachery. Winterfell will burn to the ground and I will destroy the two homes that you have known.

The Rains of Castamere shall play throughout the North, and two great houses of Westeros will have been ended by your husband's war.

Family Duty Honor.

Do your duty and do not fail your family. I would take no pleasure in these actions, but I am not one to make idle threats, and I will do what must be done for the good of the realm.

Lord Lucien Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Warden of the West"

"My Lady." Maester Luwin desperately attempted to get Catelyn's attention. "My Lady please."

Catelyn did not even realize that she had fallen to her knees.

"Gods be with you Ned." She said aloud, her voice was sharp and full of conviction. "Let them guide you and see that justice is done. Kill him Ned! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

* * *

 **Eddard: Five Months Later**

The majority of the Riverlands that was north of the Red Fork had been completely destroyed. It had once been a land of beauty, with the waters of the Trident providing life to the riverbank.

Eddard stood outside his war tent and had a full, good view of the Red Fork. Now the rivers carried little more than corpses, the entire area stank and the water was stained with blood.

 _With the amount of blood flowing through it, every fork of the Trident will soon be referred to as red._

The vegetation had been burned and it had made the land very flat. It was so bad, that scouts would be regularly shot by archers because they had so little cover to hide themselves.

Villagers were absolutely nowhere to be seen, and their land was pillaged and damaged by both armies. Eddard did what he could to keep order in his ranks, but it was impossible to contain the lust and whims of every individual soldier.

From the western side of the Whispering Woods to the eastern war front consisting of the gap between the Blue and Red Fork, the armies of the North and the Westerlands had clashed. What remained of an organized Riverland army stood behind the Lannisters, the primary house sworn the Lions side seemed to be House Bracken of Stone Hedge.

It had been nearly half a year since Eddard and his forces had passed through the Neck. The thought that the conflict could go on for so long in the same location seemed ridiculous. But it had, this war had resulted in one of the most devastating stalemates the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen.

This land had been home to Lysa and Catelyn Tully, and their husbands had destroyed it as they warred over the rightful king to the Iron Throne.

 _Was it worth it?_ Eddard had said to himself more than once. _So many dead. I should have stayed silent and tolerated the King from incest. It would have been preferable to this hell that Lannister and I have created in a place that once flowed with life. And my own children back in Winterfell weigh on my conscience each and every day, as well as the families who have lost loved ones from this war, on both sides._

 _Forgive me Robert, you put your seven kingdoms into my hands and this was the result._

The long time frame of the war weighed heavily on the men. They had not advanced beyond the Trident for nearly half a year. While some men were eager for war, far more were beginning to see this pursuit as pointless. After all, they were campaigning to depose a King they had never seen and seat another man of whom they knew nothing.

Stannis Baratheon, as far as Eddard knew, still lived. Communication between the two war fronts was difficult, and if Stannis did indeed live then it was a miracle. But regardless, his time would be running out. The Tyrell forces should have overtaken Stannis far earlier, but that area had also lead to a long stalemate.

 _How many crops and homes have been burned on the eve of winter? Gods, so many will starve._

The Tyrells had been pushing forward until Lord Randyll Tarly had suddenly died in his own command tent. Information was limited, but Eddard had heard the rumors that the great commander had been murdered by a shadow, as absurd as that sounded.

After his death, scattered rumors believed that the Tyrell advance slowed. Renly Baratheon was also believed dead, the supposed death was also shrouded in rumor and uncertainty.

Eddard had been counting on support on his war front. The alliance that had been formed had failed Eddard completely in the short run, and Eddard feared that he had been had. The Lannisters had devastated the Tullys before the Northern army could arrive.

Edmure Tully had been so badly beaten by Lord Lucien, that the young Tully's reputation would be forever tainted if he survived his imprisonment. When Eddard had questioned a captured Lannister soldier, the insolent man had boasted,

"You are dead Lord of the barren North. Lord Lucien will ravage you as hard as he takes both his Tully wife in the bedchamber and her brother on the battlefield." The man mocked.

The captured man was exaggerating. The Lannisters were no flaccid foe, but the men of the North were of strong stock and the Westerland army was learning that quickly. The Lannisters had the numbers and strategic position on their side, but a Northern man was worth more than a single southern soldier.

Despite the ferocity of his men, Eddard had to face the Lannisters alone. Eddard had been given a promise, he had a plan, and he prayed to his gods that it would be executed.

Eddard knew very well who his foe was in battle. Lord Lucien Lannister was the primary commander, with the Kingslayer leading the second force. It was also said that the Lannister heir, Gerrion Lannister was gathering a name for his own as well. In the first month of the Stark's arrival in the war, Jaime and Gerrion Lannister had lead a resounding Lannister victory near Raventree Hall. This victory had kept the Stark army on their back foot, and it had contained the majority of the battles to between the Blue and the Red fork.

The Lannisters were in the preferred strategic position, they had the castle of Riverrun first of all, and they could coordinate and mirror Eddard's movements. Eddard had hoped that either of the two Lannister brothers would instigate a brash attack, but it seemed Lucien Lannister could be a very patient man when it suited him. He simply checked Eddard's movements and kept him north of the Red Fork. The Lord of Lannister likely thought that if he delayed the Northmen, then the Tyrells would finish off Stannis Baratheon and come to his aid.

 _If I do not move now, then I will never leave these lands. It is as simple as that. The situation will not improve, I must attack now._

In order for Ned to leave the Riverlands alive with any amount of an army remaining, he needed to make his way to the Crossroads. Where the Red, Blue, and Green Fork joined. It was the only way his battle plan could be successful.

 _This march is not wise to an outsider. To anyone who does not know what I know. Lord Lucien must think me a fool at this moment. Right now I must look like a sluggish wounded animal, and he and the Kingslayer are sharpening their knives to stab me in the heart._

The march to get to the required position on the crossroads had been treacherous. Lord Lucien himself had been lured away from Riverrun to head off the bold and single minded march south. During his march Eddard's army had been afflicted by quick striking raids and some of his men swore they saw the Lord of Lannister mounted on a gigantic black horse and adorned in an exquisite suit of armor.

Of course the Northmen would not be easily intimidated, men had gambled for the chance to claim the various pieces of the exquisite armor after the Lannister Lord was dead.

"Let the blond prick come!" Greatjon Umber had been heard saying once. "I do not fear the man or his black fucking horse! Rich men bleed like everyone else. We will feed Lannister and his King slaying brother to the crows. Cut off their heads, stuff the two cocks in the other's mouth and send it to their father."

Eddard had no desire to kill Lannister, this war was slipping away with each passing day. The more time he took within sight of the Trident, the less likely it seemed that Stannis Baratheon would survive. If it were true that Renly was dead, then who would Eddard be fighting this war for then? Who would sit upon the Iron Throne?

He had overestimated the strength of the rebellion and Lannister had delayed him for too long. It seemed a hostage would be very necessary. The capture of Lucien, Jaime, and Gerrion Lannister would be more than enough to get Lord Tywin's attention. The man's entire legacy snatched and held away from him in a single stroke. All Ned had to do was win a battle against long odds, and hope to the gods he got the aid that he needed.

Ned stepped back inside his tent. His son Robb was present, and was surveying the map of the land.

Robb was gaining the respect of his men, and Ned could not have been more proud of him. At eighteen, he had become a leader of men, and his mind for battlefield tactics had evolved impressively. The only glimmer of pleasure in this whole war was watching his son grow from a green boy to a man. When Robb learned the truth of King Joffrey's parentage, he would not accept staying in Winterfell. He demanded to be by his father's side. Catelyn was completely against it, but Robb had gone to war regardless. In hindsight it was very necessary, Robb's mind for war had likely saved many Northern lives.

Robb's direwolf, Grey Wind, had also developed a reputation. The direwolf was completely dedicated to his owner, and Ned would never forget when he saw the direwolf tear a man to pieces.

"They say Lord Lannister himself has graced us with his presence. We have him, now we take him, and my cousin, and the Kingslayer to boot." Robb said while looking up at his father.

"Aye, the stage is set, the Lannister force is set across the bank. Tomorrow we move forward, and we take them all."

The battle on the banks of the Trident during Robert's Rebellion had been brutal. Its successor years later would be just as deadly.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Thank you for reading. These last chapters have been difficult, but fun and rewarding to write. Lysa's chapters in particular have been very enjoyable to work on.**

 **The next chapter is one that I have been working towards for a while.**

 **A Lucien, Eddard, Robb, and Gerrion POV chapter during The Second Battle of the Trident.**


	17. The Battle on the Trident

**The Battle on the Trident**

* * *

 **Gerrion**

"They are going to cross. They are actually going to cross, how inconceivably stupid." His father said. They stood near the bank of the Trident at the crack of dawn. Across the river, they could see the Stark forces assembling and organizing.

"They are desperate." Kevan Lannister remarked. "Lord Eddard knows he cannot survive much longer pinned down in the area. He must march, even if it is not tactically sound."

"Let them march across the bank, they will go no further. The path is set for their destruction." Jaime Lannister 'The Kingslayer' remarked.

While they stood together, the contrast between the two Lannister brothers could not have been more apparent. Jaime was casual and handsome, while Lucien was serious and would be considered unappealing to put it kindly. His father would talk on and on about the duty that would befall Gerrion when he became the Lord of Casterly Rock one day. When he was Jaime's squire, the change in attitude was a welcome change of pace. It appeared that Jaime took whatever he liked and walked with a confidence that could not be matched.

 _I was naive. My uncle should have more self-control. Doing whatever he liked has started this whole damned mess._

His father had always ignored his elder brother, in fact in Gerrion's entire life he could not think of a single time where the two brothers shared each other's company when it was not required of them. He was not sure it was hate, but they were not compatible and they did not know each other.

But Gerrion knew Jaime well, he had been his squire after all. When the letter from Stannis Baratheon had been read, Gerrion had declared the contents of the letter as lies immediately. But that was in the heat of the moment when surrounded by others who were eager to share that opinion. Upon reflection Jaime had always seemed attached to the Queen. Gerrion had also known Joffrey for the unstable boy that he was, and there were always theories that the reason some Targaryens went mad was because of the union between brother and sister.

When he confided his suspicions to his father in private, his father had been calm and listened. They had talked for hours about every little thing that Jaime did in his day to day activities. At the end of it all his father had replied simply,

"Stannis Baratheon's claims are lies. Even if they are true they will be remembered as lies. Do you understand? They must seen as lies. Even if my brother and sister had bedded and cuckolded King Robert, it matters not. It is irrelevant whether King Joffrey is a Baratheon or a pure Lannister. I will go to war regardless. I have no love for my siblings, but I will defend them with all my strength. They are family, and as their Lord I shall defend their reputation and lives whether they deserve it or not."

Gerrion had walked away from that conversation utterly convinced that every word Stannis Baratheon had written was true.

 _You are a smarter man than I, father, but you are lying to yourself. You have made yourself a fool. You talk as if morality and the truth mean nothing to you. But the evidence of your siblings' actions stares you in the face and you still willingly deny it. Just look at the physical appearances of Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella and try to find any hint of Robert Baratheon. Say whatever you like, but you do not want to see yourself as in the wrong, and you will create your own reality to see yourself as a man who does no more than his duty._

 _Damn this war. The men I killed did not deserve to die._

Fighting had been purely for survival, and now Gerrion had adequate motivation to fight and survive. Several months ago, a raven had arrived at Riverrun bringing news that his wife Margery was pregnant. Their short time together had been enough to conceive a child. Now every man he faced on the battlefield was an obstacle to seeing his future child. Every time he saw Jaime crack a smile he wanted to throttle him. When Lord Lucien made military arrangements that caused the deaths of hundreds it set Gerrion's teeth on edge.

He had never been close with his father, but he felt like he was truly seeing him for the first time. To say the least, he was disgusted.

Lord Lucien continued to stare out across the bank. "The odds are in Lord Stark's disfavor to the point that I struggle to believe this course of action. Perhaps the hero of Robert's Rebellion is no true commander after all. Perhaps he is simply a fool."

"You are a fool yourself if you have not learned that Stark is a fool by now." Jaime responded.

"Do not underestimate him." Lucien responded before turning to his uncle Kevan instead. "What of our scouts to the east? Have they returned as I had commanded?"

"There has been nothing to report my Lord." Kevan addressed his nephew respectfully. Tywin's younger brother had always carried himself with dignity. Kevan Lannister had enough qualifications to serve as Lord of Casterly Rock, yet he always deferred to Lord Tywin and served his nephew faithfully.

"There has not been sufficient time for the men to survey the land and return. Stark may have hindered himself by marching so blindly and quickly, but it gave us no time to adequately survey the land. Lord Stark choose this battlefield." Kevan continued to say. He had said as much the previous night, no doubt Lucien was looking for any new information directly before the battle.

"The scouts are slow, they knew of our needed haste. Their failure could result in our own failure."

"What are you so afraid of brother? There is no threat to the east. Come now Lucien, the Vale has been silent for the entire war. The young Arryn boy has no bullocks and he will be silent again today." Jaime answered.

Gerrion could have sworn he saw Lucien bite his own tongue to prevent himself from snapping back at his older brother. There were Lannister soldiers moving around them, getting themselves prepared for war. Seeing their commanders bickering on the brink of battle would not have inspired confidence.

Gerrion had been given access to Lucien's vast network of spies. They were throughout the seven kingdoms, but mostly in the Westerlands and Kings Landing. But, the Vale was a mystery to them and the uncertainty had made Lucien uneasy of late.

Eddard Stark was marching towards the crossroads of the Trident, and his father had voiced a suspicion that an underhanded maneuver could be Stark's motivation. The Vale had maintained neutrality during the war, but Lord Lucien had been suspicious of the young Lord Arryn ever since he had denied Philippa's marital hand and a Lannister alliance. For months his father had waited for the Vale to make a move, but it seems the Vale was silent. But every raven that was overhead heading in the direction of the Vale caught Lucien Lannister's eye.

"Perhaps men from the front lines can be deviated to fortify against any potential threat from the east." Lucien said simply.

"This is ludicrous." Jaime insisted, glaring at his brother as if he were overtly paranoid. "You are jumping at your own shadow, brother. There will be no attack from the east, I need every man under my command for our left flank. You would willingly pass by an assured victory to address a phantom threat?"

Lucien casually turned and looked Gerrion dead in the eyes. This was clearly a test, the entire reason for this topic was for Gerrion to give the correct answer in a high pressure situation. When he was younger, the stare of his father would have sent him into a stuttering and submissive state. The eyes of his father had been the bane of his existence.

That was before the war. That boy had died on his first battlefield, and a man had been raised in his place. He had killed boys around his age as well as men two or three times older than himself.

 _I am now the heir to Casterly Rock. I will not balk or cower._

"No, our strength on the front lines is assurance of our victory. They shall ride in the vanguard and drive a dagger through the Northern armies' heart." Gerrion stated with genuine conviction and confidence.

While maintaining his gaze, Lucien gave his son a nod. Then he gave a smile. Kevan and Jaime looked at their Lord in surprise. Lucien Lannister rarely smiled, and the smile he gave now was terrifying. It was a smile a man gave before he was about to kill someone.

"Well said. This will be a day long remembered. Robert's Rebellion was determined on the banks of the Trident, this second rebellion will be quelled on the same river."

Lord Lucien was outfitted in his regular armor. The rising sun shone upon the models of the two lionesses perched on the man's shoulders.

"The men are in position and our strength is assured. Go to your posts my Lords, and we shall throw these wolves back from whence they came. For Casterly Rock! They will hear us roar!"

Lucien shouted the last two sentences and the surrounding Lannister men took up the shout. Soon it seemed like the entire army was cheering and chanting.

Gerrion did not respond to the noise, he did not need to chant to know what he needed to do. He turned to leave for his post.

"Gerrion." He heard his father call out behind him. "No words for your father before the battle?"

Gerrion turned to face his father, "There is no need for a tearful goodbye. We shall see one another before the sun sets."

Lucien looked him over without amusement "Nevertheless take care my son. Remember to take the Starks alive if possible. If it is dangerous to do so, then take no chances. You are far more valuable to me and your mother. May your sword swing true, and see that you walk away from this battle unscathed."

Gerrion had no kind words to return to his father, nor was he particularly inclined to give any.

"May fortune favor you father. May the gods watch over and guide you."

Gerrion said this on purpose, his father had no cares for the faith of the seven at all.

"Go on Lord Gerrion, the battle awaits."

Lucien's gigantic black beast of a horse was brought to him, and when he mounted it, Gerrion had to admit that his father looked as impressive as a king.

* * *

 **Eddard**

Eddard Stark had fought in a handful of battles, but this one was the bloodiest of them all. He remembered over three years ago when Lucien Lannister had brought a host with him to Winterfell. The men from both the north and south had feasted, laughed, and gotten drunk together. Now those same men sought to kill each other.

Eddard had to present himself as a proper target, he had to lure them with a snare. The future of the war depended on that, as well as the letters he had sent a fortnight prior.

Typically in large conflicts, the knights and lesser lords fought on the front lines, with the higher lords commanding from in rear in relative safety. Sometimes a victorious Lord would not need to unsheathe their sword.

This battle was large enough in scale to ensure that no one was safe in this conflict, and Eddard found himself immersed in battle almost immediately. All around him, men lay dead. Battle cries filled the air, along with cries for mercy and the sounds of the dying.

Eddard did not consider himself an expert swordsman, he was certainly competent, but he did not have the skill of men like Jaime Lannister. But experience was on his side, and he pushed through every attempt made on his life.

Even in all the chaos he saw it. A huge horse that was as black as night, with the rider in Lannister crimson and covered head to foot in armor. He parted men with ease, the huge horse threatening to trample anyone who got too close. One man was unfortunate and was ridden down, the horseshoe split his head open like an overripe melon. In the next instant, the man beside him lost his head as the Lord of Lannister decapitated him as he rode past.

Eddard lost track of the horse and the rider. He was consumed in his own struggles. Stark's men loyally stood by his side to protect their Lord. Their dedication was noteworthy. Among them was Greatjon Umber, Jory Cassel, and Lord Gregor Forrester. Many other loyal men also sought to protect the Lord of Winterfell. They could only do so much, the assault from the Lannister force was overwhelming, but Eddard had the strength to fight his own battles.

Hours passed, but every minute felt the length of an entire day. So it felt like an eternity before he saw the Lord of Lannister again. This time he had a multitude of soldiers with him and the armored man was staring directly at Eddard.

"Here comes the bastard!" Greatjon Umber roared.

If he were mounted, Lord Lucien could ride through them.

"Kill his horse." Eddard yelled amidst the chaos.

Lord Umber held an axe in anticipation.

"Come here you! Come here you!" Lord Umber mumbled in a determined fashion. When the horse was almost upon them, he hurled the axe with all his strength.

It hit the horse full in the face. Lord Lannister was unceremoniously thrown from his horse into the bloody mud of the riverbank.

There was no time to celebrate the small reprieve, because the garrison of Lannister soldiers were upon them.

Eddard fought and killed Lannister men, but his own men were dying around him. Lord Lannister had risen from the muck and was tearing apart Stark's loyal Lords. He never saw Greatjon Umber fall, nor Jory Cassel. But he did see two deaths clearly. A young boy who could not have been more than fifteen attacked Lord Lannister. The boy's sword and armor were not up for the challenge. Lucien Lannister swung so hard that he bent the boy's sword back so that it slit its owner's throat.

The second death occurred shortly after Eddard felled his last man. Gregor Forrester was attacking Lucien Lannister head on. The veteran Northern Lord gave a valiant effort, but one mistake was enough. Forrester took a strike to his knee, when he hit the ground, Lannister buried his longsword into Lord Forrester's face. Lannister placed his muddy boot on the dead man's neck and used it as leverage to pull the sword out of the corpse.

Lannister then turned to the surviving members of his escort and pointed towards a group of approaching Stark men with his sword.

"Keep those men away from me."

The Lannister men quickly moved to obey their Lord, and Lord Stark and Lord Lannister stood alone in the mud and near the rushing water of the Trident. Their men battled each other behind them.

"I warned you years ago Stark, yet here you stand."

"Aye, here I stand."

Lannister advanced slowly. His armor was covered in mud and stained blood. Blood also dripped from his sword. He wore a helm that covered the entirety of his face. As he came closer, the only human element of the man that was visible was his piercing green eyes. Eddard noticed that the man was breathing heavily and wondered if the fall of the horse had injured him.

"Your army will be decimated, all by your doing. Make peace with your tree gods, your treachery has ended."

"You dare speak of treachery after what you and your siblings have done to Robert? Deny it then! You killed your King and seated a bastard on the Iron Throne!"

"Believe what you will about my siblings. I am well aware of what I have done, no one but you mourned for Robert after I killed him."

With that last remark, Lannister raised his sword and the Wolf and the Lion clashed.

* * *

 **Robb**

While he was not in the midst of the worst of the fighting, every moment was a desperate fight for his life. The battle was truly chaos, so much so that Robb had little time to think about anything but the next immediate threat.

His direwolf Grey Wind was in the heat of the battle. They had been inseparable in the past, but in midst of the chaos of battle, the wolf and its owner had been separated.

Robb had been side by side with Theon Greyjoy for the entirety of the battle to this point. The war had hardened the both of them, and the bond between them had strengthened to the point of brotherhood.

Ever since the war started he wondered if he would see his cousin Gerrion again. Their sparring sessions in Winterfell were still fresh in his mind. It almost seemed like destiny that those battles would become real.

When it happened, it did not feel like a surprise when he crossed swords with Gerrion Lannister.

Robb had been initially protected by many loyal men, but with the Lannister men pushing forward. The opportunity for personal protection became almost nonexistent.

Gerrion relentlessly perused him, and seemed determined to not let him escape.

 _He sought me out. He wants to capture me to bring a quicker end to the war._

It was not a cohesive, uninterrupted fight. They were surrounded by men from both armies fighting among themselves. Occasionally Stark men would attempt to intercede in order to aid the son of their Lord. These men were either cut down or attacked by other Lannister men.

Robb expected accusations and threats from his Lannister cousin. He fully expected words that dripped with venom. He heard them, but they came from Theon instead. The young man lashed out at Gerrion Lannister with his tongue as much as his sword.

Robb also noticed something extremely strange. Every other man attempted to kill him by any means necessary. Gerrion Lannister never aimed a killing blow towards him. Not once.

That was not to say that Gerrion was not seeking to win the contest. In the three years since the trip to Winterfell, Gerrion's natural talent had developed into a skillful grace. Men who lived forty years could train every day and not develop half as much skill.

After several blows, his cousin said only this to him "I am sorry it has come to this cousin. Yield Robb Stark, you need not die."

 _You can hear it in his voice. He is genuine. He regrets what he is doing._

The battle was getting faster and faster and Robb's mind swirled to keep up. He made several mistakes, and Lannister's sword made dents in his armor. Gerrion Lannister would not give ground. Robb felt like he was pushing the Lannister heir to his limits, but even so he still could not land a blow on his cousin.

It was not honorable, but the thought did cross Robb's mind.

 _I need to get away from him. I am over matched and I will lose. If I am captured, then father's plan will be significantly hindered. I need to get away._

It was at that precise moment when Gerrion slashed at his midsection. Robb brought his sword across a moment too late.

It was a searing white hot pain and he began to feel as if he were drunk and unaware of his surroundings.

Robb stumbled and Gerrion turned away from him to solely face Theon.

 _Why is he leaving his back exposed to me? How could he make such a blatant mistake?_

Robb was determined to return the kindness that Gerrion had extended him. He would incapacitate Lannister, not kill him. Robb moved to attack Gerrion from behind…..

Nothing happened. Robb was bewildered, and was forced to watch as Gerrion Lannister drove his sword straight through the weak points in Theon Greyjoy's armor and out of his back.

While watching in horror, it took Robb took a moment to realize that he could not feel his sword in his fingers. In fact, he could not feel his fingers either.

He dared to take the time to look down on the ground and he saw his sword laying in the mud…as well as his severed hand.

His vision turned into a confusing blur. All he heard were shouts. It was at least a minute before he felt men pulling him to his feet. They were protecting him, Robb was at least sure of that.

 _Where is Gerrion? Why did he not finish me off?_

It was then that Robb heard the growl of a direwolf. Later he felt Grey Wind's fur as he rubbed against him. Even though the direwolf was caked in mud and blood, it was a soothing feeling.

 _That is why he left_. Robb thought before he lost consciousness. _My cousin is no fool. Only a fool would attack a direwolf head on._

* * *

 **Lucien**

Lucien lashed out quickly, and the two swords met with a resounding crash. The high quality steel of both swords met each other with ferocity. Lucien wasted little time striking again at Stark's chest and the blow was met and repelled skillfully. It would be wise to get the measure of his opponent before he committed to an aggressive offensive.

His entire body ached horribly. The fall from his horse had done something to him, but he would not stop. It did not stop him from killing Stark's men and it would not stop him from subduing Lord Stark himself.

Lucien could almost hear his father chastising him as he dueled. 'Idiot boy, you should have lead from the rear. You had the superior position. Risking yourself was pointless and the actions of a glory seeking imbecile.' He imagined Lord Tywin saying this to him as if Lucien were still ten years old.

Perhaps it was brash to ride into the thick of battle, but Lucien was physically capable of fighting in such a way. He was assured that his abilities would trump any adversity that he faced. His armor would turn back the blows from weaker swords, and on his horse he had felt invincible.

The high quality armor of both combatants shielded the men from minor blows. But the men's defenses were skilled enough to not allow any early blows to land. This would be a battle of attrition. Lucien was injured, but Stark had been fighting on foot for hours. They were both tired, and the first mistake would be key to the fight's resolution.

After a dozen exchanges, the pair briefly separated and paced around each other. They examined the other's defenses and stalked around one another.

Then Stark attacked this time, and Lucien was taken aback. He had to use all his effort to turn back a blow more than once. His counterattacks came up empty and they traded blows again…and again…and again. There was no progress, it seemed they were locked into a stalemate.

 _Figures, locked in a stalemate during tactical warfare, and now we cannot even subdue one another properly._

Lucien had planned on taking Eddard alive. In truth, it was one of the reasons Lucien had taken such a personal role in the battle. He did not want to hear that Stark had been killed by accident. That would eliminate his useful role as a hostage, and Lucien sought to personally ensure Stark's capture went smoothly. But the longer the fight went on, the more Lucien realized that Stark would need to die in order for Lucien to walk away unscathed.

Trusting his full body armor to protect him, Lucien's attacks turned more aggressive. Aiming for Stark's head he relentlessly pursued him, hitting harder and harder. Stark's blows could not land on him either, but over time Lucien's sword felt heavier, his ornate and protective armor felt more cumbersome. His body ached and Lucien felt his control slipping away

 _I am getting tired. He is going to outlast me. This bastard may actually kill me._

Lucien sword was a fraction of a second late on the following pass. Lucien's attempted parry resulted in only a glancing deflection and Stark's sword slammed into the side of Lucien's helm. The helm did its purpose of preventing Lucien's head from being opened from temple to temple. But there was a dull thud followed by a sharp pain.

It was enough to prevent him from parrying the next attack. The hit landed on the same spot that landed previously. The helm was made of fine material, but the first hit weakened it and the second had twisted it so sharply that the edge of the helm scrapped across his forehead and covered his eyes.

For the briefest of moments he could not see, and for the first time in a decade when the men of the Iron Isles raided his shores, Lucien Lannister was truly terrified. His wealth, his respect, his power, his wife, his children. All he ever had could be wretched away from him.

Blindly, he kicked in Stark's direction out of desperation. The desperate attempt succeeded and it drove Stark back long enough for Lucien to tear the dented and ruined helm off of his head. Blood seeped from the fresh gash above his right eye.

They were separated and breathing heavily. Their focus was solely on one another until a loud rumble began to be palpably heard throughout the battlefield.

Lucien was far enough away from Stark to be able to look away towards the noise.

Another army was coming. It comprised solely of mounted cavalry, and through the blood that was dripping into his eyes Lucien could make out their approach. They were far enough away that Lucien could not make out the crescent moon and falcon on a blue field that was displayed on the armies' banners. The cavalry was approaching in haste, and it was coming in a direction that would flank the Lannister forces.

Stark had a look of palpable relief.

 _He planned this! Those damned scouts! I had my suspicions, why did I not act on them?_

 _The utter annihilation of Eddard Stark was too tempting. I was arrogant, I gambled, and I lost it all._

Stark then spoke with the power and authority worthy of a King.

"It is over Lannister, lay down your sword. Yield."

Lucien gave Lord Eddard Stark a look of pure defiance, when he spoke, his words came out in a hiss.

"Enough of this. You will not live to see this victory. Like Robert Baratheon before you, you will die by my hand."

Lucien threw the ruined helm at Eddard. If it had hit the Stark Lord in the chin instead of the chest plate, it would have broken the man's jaw. Using all his strength and rage, Lucien attacked Stark with a fervor he did not think possible given the circumstances. There was nothing left in him but pure adrenaline. He would be cut down, or taken prisoner if the coming army had any sense. The army was approaching Lucien, who was on the Lannister's right flank.

 _It is too late for me, but have some sense Jaime. You are on the left flank, you have time to adjust after I am overrun. Order the retreat and get my son out of here._

Yes he would be prisoner, but he would send Eddard Stark to his death before that inevitability occurred.

The more refined, organized opening to the fight was unrecognizable from the savage, brutal attacks that now rained down.

Finally, at long last, an opening developed in Eddard's defense. After attacking low, Lucien slid his sword down and then was able to cut under Stark's sword. Lucien's sword cut into Eddard Stark's leg. The cut was not deep, it would not make a cripple of him. But it brought Eddard Stark down on the ground on one knee in agony.

Stark's freshly injured leg struggled to support him, and for a brief moment Stark's body lurched forward, low to the ground. He looked like a man prepared on an execution block.

Time seemed to slow for Lucien, this sequence of Stark falling had lasted mere moments, yet there was so much importance that rested upon them. There would be no better opportunity. To strike at the heart of the rebellion. Renly Baratheon was dead and Stannis was soon to follow. There was only one loose end. His father could finish the rest. _There is no man left to oppose us that my father cannot handle._

Lucien Lannister swung downward at Eddard Stark's neck with all the strength he had remaining…..

* * *

And he missed…

Lucien's sword landed roughly onto the ground which sent shock waves on his fingers and up his arms. The impact was strong enough to break one of his fingers.

With a shocking amount of determination, Stark had pulled back so that the blow narrowly missed him. In pain, and with not enough time to raise his sword up from the ground, Stark dropped his sword, rose up, and slammed his mailed fist into Lucien's exposed face.

There was a sudden flash of light before Lucien's vision went blank.

He did not see Lord Eddard Stark fall back down to one knee.

He did not see the Knights of the Vale sweep across the Lannister ranks.

Lucien Lannister was unconscious before he hit the ground. The impact had enough force to snap off one of the Lionesses perched on the shoulders of his armor.

When Robert Baratheon dealt the killing blow to Rhaegar Targaryen, the dragon prince's rubies had scattered into the river.

Years later, like the rubies before them, Lucien Lannister's teeth splintered and scattered into the mud, and a few found the rushing water.

The right flank of the Lannister forces was annihilated. Sensing the impending obstacle approaching, Jaime and Gerrion Lannister were able to assemble a clumsy retreat. The once mighty advantage the Lannisters once had in the Riverlands had crumbled in a single day.

Littlefinger had not lied when he told Eddard Stark in Kings Landing that he would have the Vale on his side. Lord Arryn had coordinated, waited, and struck when the Lannister's were in the most vulnerable position. The Vale had taken the prerogative to wait and strike far later than Eddard Stark had ever wanted, but the results were undeniably effective.

Wounded or not, today was the day of the Wolf and Falcon.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Hopefully you enjoyed the chapter. It took quite some time to write, and I have been building up to this chapter for the last several chapters.**

 **I intended to have this chapter contain surprises. If it did not surprise you as I intended, then hopefully I presented the battle in an entertaining fashion.**

 **Lucien had been reigning high and mighty throughout the story, and I believed he needed to be sent crashing down off his high horse in this chapter.**

 **I wanted to write a character that was clever (at least as clever as I can write) and powerful, but he is not a genius and he makes mistakes. And in the source material, mistakes always have huge consequences.**

 **I assume most readers would enjoy seeing Lucien being brought low, if so, you hopefully got some satisfaction at the ending of the chapter.**

 **It was not my intention to write Lucien as a likable character at all, but rather write how I think Tywin Lannister's heir would act and turn out as a person. I also wanted to play around with how not only the additional Lannister son, but also his marriage and children would change the story as well.**

 **If you see Lucien differently, then by all means interpret and enjoy the story however you like. That is just the perspective I have while writing, and I wanted to share it with you in case you were interested.**

 **I would like to give a thank you to anyone who has read the story up to this point. I really appreciate it. Writing this story takes time, and if I did not have the audience for it I would have stopped long ago.**

 **So Thank You!**


	18. Gerrion III Lucien VII

**Gerrion**

"That is all for now. Leave me, my Lords." He commanded with as much authority in his voice as he could manage. The Lords of the Westerlands began to leave the room at his command. He was only fifteen years of age, but now, at least temporarily, he was acting Lord of Casterly Rock. It was clear that his father's bannerman did not respect him yet, he had a reputation on the battlefield. But in terms of military leadership, he was barely of an age to be considered a man. Lucien Lannister had been the one to command the Lords, it was difficult for those same Lords to take commands from his younger and less experienced son.

Gerrion Lannister rose from his seat at the head of the long table, and looked at the two men who remained in the room. Jaime and Kevan Lannister stared back at him, in truth the two of them would primarily be leading the army. Gerrion was an impressive fighter, but his youth and inexperience hindered his tactical abilities.

"Every man has weaknesses." His father had told him once. "Surround yourself with men who can compensate for those weaknesses. They will complement and make you stronger then you could ever achieve on your own. No one ever became great without other lesser known men and women to aid them."

Gerrion had been an unwilling participant in this war, but now he was thrown into the heart of the fire. It had seemed so close to concluding on that day on the Trident. He had even personally maimed Robb Stark, and would have been able to take him captive if it was not for the massive direwolf. But that battle seemed to be only the beginning.

Lucien Lannister, his ever present powerful and demanding father had been bested in combat, and the Lannister force had been delivered its most crushing defeat in recent memory. Eyewitness reports had been disorganized, as any Lannister man that had been close to Lucien Lannister had been overrun by the knights of the Vale. Initially Gerrion believed his father to be dead until they had received a messenger who confirmed that Lucien Lannister was held hostage.

Gerrion had overseen a hasty and clumsy retreat, and he had never felt so weak and helpless as he was fleeing. And now at his weakest point, he was supposed to be a leader of men for a war he wanted no part in.

A small force remained fortified at Riverrun, but the majority of the Lannister army had been pushed south. Now they were fortified for the moment at the ruins of Harrenhall. The location allowed them to remain in communication with Lord Tywin in Kings Landing.

 _A place that is supposedly cursed. Could there be a drearier atmosphere?_

He had written the letters about the battle's events to his mother and Lord Tywin. The response from Lord Tywin had been as expected. The response demanded that Gerrion rely on Kevan and Jaime and hold off the armies of the North and Vale until aid could arrive. Gerrion could read between the lines, Tywin believed his son to be permanently lost. He had heard no response from his mother.

"I have no say in this matter then? Lord Tywin has decided?" Gerrion said icily towards the elder members of his family once the other Lords had departed.

"Lord Tywin gave your father autonomy because he trusted him. You are young my Lord, and Lord Tywin will conduct this war strategically himself and will entrust us to fight tactically. Your father had discussed this plan with Lord Lucien at great length, they found the expense unnecessary at the time because they believed the North would be overwhelmed in the field." Lord Kevan responded.

"And they would have, the war would be over if they Vale had remained neutral, all the reports suggested that the whelp of Jon Arryn would remain silent." Jaime interjected.

"Enlighten me how an entire army could mobilize without our knowing. Do we not have access to the best spies in the seven kingdoms? I expected the Master of Whisperers at least to be of use." Gerrion asked.

It seemed that Kevan was about the deliver a more formal response, but Jaime responded before he was able to do so.

"Men were either traitors or incompetent, and Lord Varys has always been of questionable allegiance. The eunuch may use his sweet voice to avoid punishment as always, but knowing my father, heads rolled for this" The Kingslayer responded.

It was against his beater judgement, and he should really have kept his mouth shut, but Gerrion had wanted so badly to snap at his uncle for too long. So many men and women had died over this nonsense.

"I would practice your denial of the claims against you Kingslayer, for if you meet Lord Tywin and he sees through the lie and knows why this war started, he might be angry enough to see you firmly punished."

Jaime frowned. Gerrion had kept his opinion of his uncle well-hidden previously, so the remark had been unexpected. They had gotten along well when Gerrion had squired for Jaime.

"That was brave of you boy, I am impressed you speak so openly." Jaime leaned back to relax against the wall of the ancient fortress.

"Your misdeeds are your own and they are in the past. In the present, we will need every ounce of strength to survive this bloody war. I need to trust you uncle and I need your counsel. You can start by never lying to me ever again. Then we can begin to rebuild what we have lost." Gerrion responded, this time more calmly.

"My Lord…" Kevan began to speak towards Gerrion.

"Please Ser Kevan, I have asked you that when we are in private to address me regularly. My father was captured, that does not increase my abilities in any way. You are more worthy of Lordship then I am."

"Lord Tywin may conduct this war, but you are my Lord, as my brother and his son were before. With your aid I will strive to rescue Lord Lucien and restore him to lordship, but until then I am at your service."

"I need the aid of both of you if my father is ever to spend another day as a free man. I cannot claim to love him. But despite it all, he is my father and the rightful Lord. I will see him restored to his proper place. But this plan of Lord Tywin's is too brutal and extreme. How many men, women, and children will die?"

"My Lord the damage will be limited, and until the Tyrells can end Stannis Baratheon, only guile will slow the enemy's assault. There must be a response and it must be soon." Lord Kevan responded.

"We need every advantage, and I am sure you have heard the famous rumor that Lord Tywin shits gold. Well it is time to make use of it." Jaime replied.

Gerrion did not respond, he could not do anything about it anyway. His grandfather had far more power than he would ever have. The ravens had likely already flown.

 _Lord Tywin will act whether I wish it or not, and I must make the most of it. I will get my father back, and if I cannot then the Lannister legacy will have fallen into my hands. If that comes to pass I will not squander it, and I will ensure to set this house on a worthy path._

* * *

 **Lucien**

He lay there in the muck. He could not be certain exactly where he was, it seemed that he was moved from camp to camp. The exact location did not matter much, it was all the same. The conditions were dirty and dark and he lay there in chains, doing nothing and saying nothing. Every once in a while a guard would jeer at him and mock him. He had no way to observe his appearance, but he knew he was an absolute wreck. He could feel the dirty beard that now covered his face, he had always remained clean shaven because it seemed his facial hair always grew in an unappealing way. The grime that covered it would make it far worse. Whenever he tried to eat, the filth would fall onto his food.

Eating in captivity was the most unpleasant thing that Lucien Lannister had ever experienced, he had always lived on the best, most delicious food. At first the guards had given him solid food as a jape. What remained of his teeth was in splinters, and he was in agony at all times. It would be impossible to chew the bread they gave him, which may as well have been a stone for all the good it did him.

 _I must look like the beggars in the streets that I did not give a second glance._

He had only consumed liquids and they were absolutely foul to taste. He would have wagered a fair amount of gold that the guards pissed in it on a regular basis. If not before, they probably did so now. On the second day of his captivity one of the guards had jeered for too long. The man was obviously not intelligent because he entered the cage and got too close in order to spit on him. Still chained to a post and in frustration, Lucien summoned his strength and swept his leg across and knocked the man to the ground. By the time the other guards arrived, Lucien had choked the man to death with his chain. If not for his value as a prisoner, he would have been killed right then.

He expected Lord Stark to come in and look down on him. But days and nights passed and it still did not happen.

 _Perhaps when I stabbed him in the leg, it crippled him. Perhaps he cannot stand._

The guards regularly taunted that any day they would deliver his son's head to him as recompense for cutting off the hand of Robb Stark. But these taunts did not have the desired effect. It confirmed to him that his son was still alive and had bested the Stark heir in the field of battle. That was the only relief he had been given during this travesty.

 _I may have failed, but my son is worthy of the challenges ahead of him. If I die here, my father and uncle will help him become the man that he is meant to be._

But the days were taking their toll on him. What little remained of his teeth was in constant agony and it was beginning to affect him. It kept him awake and he could not sleep, and every time he did manage to find sleep he could not get persistent visions out of his head. The visions varied, but they all revolved around the similar theme of his failure. At times he remembered the rapidly approached fist of Eddard Stark before it obscured his vision. That was the easiest one to deal with. The others were far more personal.

He saw his father standing over him, a condescending frown etched on his face.

 _'My prideful son. Look at yourself now. All those years of imitating me were for naught. You will be forgotten, an insignificant footnote. I expected more of you, son. I expected more from the child of my beloved Joanna._

At other times he saw his son Gerrion with a similar expression.

 _'All your life lessons and supposed words of wisdom were worthless. How could you guide me when you could not save yourself. You never showed a hint of affection to me. Should I mourn for you father? Should anyone?_

He also saw his three siblings laugh and jeer at him. Jaime and Cersei would touch each other intimately and Tyrion would mock him with witty japes and pester him like a crazed court jester.

But by far the worst of all was Lysa. She looked young and beautiful, but with a look of hatred that he had never seen on her before.

 _'You killed my father, you threatened my sister, you imprisoned my brother, and you destroyed my House. You expect me to be completely devoted to you? Damn you! Damn you to the seven hells!'_

 _I had to do it._ He thought to himself. _It was my duty, I had no choice in the matter. It was your family's own fault, not mine._

 _Is it?_ A small part of his mind talked back to him. _What if your siblings had conceived King Joffrey together, they are certainly capable of such foolishness. It may be your duty to defend them, but the burden of the fault lies with you._

 _Damn it all! I am already going mad!_

It was in the middle of one of these visions when he jerked himself awake. He could hear footsteps.

 _It is another guard as it always is. They saw that I was asleep and decided to wake me._

He never talked back to the guards, first of all it was a waste of breath. But it was also difficult to speak clearly when he was missing so many teeth. So he never bothered. But it was no common guard, Lord Stark entered, supported by a cane.

"Leave me with him." Lord Stark spoke with authority. The guards quickly obeyed.

Lucien simply sat there in silence and waited. When Stark also said nothing, then he decided to speak.

"This soup." He motioned to the bowl that was largely untouched, with his foot. "Is little more than piss and water. If you wish to use me as a hostage, then ensure this slop does not kill me first." He kicked the bowl over and the contents flew across the cage. "If it is your intention to kill me, then cut off my head and be done with it."

"You will survive Lannister, do not worry."

"Worry? Do you think I fear death? My life ultimately matters little, I fear and regret nothing."

"Bold words, and also a lie. Your eyes betray you. All men must die, and most fear it. You are no different." Stark replied as he took another step further.

"Are you trying to impress me Lord Stark, what took you so long to arrive? Is this the first day you have been able to stand?"

When he got no response, then he continued. "You should not have bothered, you have already impressed me by getting the Vale on your side. What did you promise Lord Arryn in return? Your daughter's maidenhead?" Despite the pain that it caused, Lucien gave a full smile and gave Lord Stark a good view of Lucien's broken teeth.

Again he got no response. It seemed Lord Stark was not going to humor him at all, and besides his mouth already ached from talking and his throat was sore due to its recent disuse.

"I did not need to come here Lannister. I could leave you in the darkness, but I need you to fully understand what your family has done and what you supported in this war."

"I am aware of Stannis' bloody claims."

"I am afraid you have not taken his claims seriously enough. Either you are an accomplice or you are negligent. Joffrey Baratheon is no Baratheon, he is the Kingslayer's bastard son, and when they were in Winterfell my son Bran saw your brother bedding Queen Cersei. Your siblings threw my son from a tower to silence him."

"You have proof? Did you consider that the young boy slipped and fell? A tragedy to be sure, but men and boys are crippled by accidents all the time. If you gave me proof, I would believe these claims of yours. I am a rational man. But your claims come across as no more than gossip that is common among low born fishwives."

"If that were true, you would have believed Stannis Baratheon. Perhaps deep down you do, and are too stubborn to admit it. Your family failed you, your siblings' unnatural infidelity led to your imprisonment."

"Stannis Baratheon will soon be dead, the Tyrell army will be too much for him to bear. When he dies, that army will turn its attention to you. Renly Baratheon is already dead. When this happens, what King are you serving? Will you seek to crown yourself?"

Just as before, Stark did not answer his question. "As we speak, terms of surrender are being given to your son and father."

If it would not have been painful, Lucien would have laughed "You think my father fears you? That he would concede a war for me? Then you are a fool, you do not know him very well."

"Perhaps I am a fool, but that does not speak well of you if you were outmaneuvered by a fool."

Lucien gave Eddard a dark glare "My defeat was not the result of your actions Stark. I have had a great amount of time to think, you think your avenue to speak with Lord Arryn is so secret? I would wager a great sum of gold that Littlefinger is no longer in the capital and away from the wrath of my father. That little bastard had his claws deep into the Arryn boy, and that stupid child would never lift a finger without Baelish's permission. You made a dangerous ally Lord Stark, he will stab you in the back. He brags about taking your wife's maidenhead, did you know that?"

At the end of this interjection, Lucien had to take a moment to compose himself, as the pain in his mouth and throat was fierce. Stark obviously noticed.

"Save yourself breath and pain Lannister. Such mindless tirades help neither of us."

Lucien was prepared to attempt one last jab at Lord Stark however.

Would you really let me walk free? I killed Robert Baratheon, have you forgotten? Or did you not care for the fat oaf as much as you let on?"

Eddard Stark responded with a simple answer. "Your transgressions have caught up with you, Kingslayer. The Lannisters always pay their debts, and you will pay your debt in full."

That was the last thing he said before he left Lucien alone in the darkness of his cell.

 _You are no match for Tywin Lannister, Lord Stark. The one trick you played is now exposed. You cannot possibly hope to survive, you will be changing your tone quickly._

He sought to maintain his resolve, but he was unable to sleep for the longest time. And the longer he sat in the darkness, the more his mind wondered towards the possibility that everything said about his siblings was true.

 _I killed a King without being detected. I became the Lord of Casterly Rock. My wife was devoted and my children were numerous and healthy. I gained everything I had ever desired. Now…now I have nothing._


	19. Tywin II Gerrion IV Lysa VI

**Tywin: Three weeks later**

Lord Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King and Protector of the realm stared at the rest of the King's Council.

 _The King's Council in name only, they serve me. Or at the least pretend to, toeing the line as close as possible while serving themselves._

The new maester was docile, there was nothing noteworthy about him. Ser Barristan Selmy was duty bound to the King, no matter the temperament of the King.

After the death of King Robert, Cersei had hatched a hasty plot to retire the old knight in order to assign Jaime to the Commander of the Kingsguard. Lucien, who had been temporarily serving as Hand of the King until Tywin's arrival, disassembled Cersei's plan immediately when he discovered it.

"Old he may be, yet he is more valuable than the rest of the Kingsguard by himself. In the farthest corners of Westeros the common folk know of the integrity of Ser Barristan the Bold. His presence adds legitimacy to any King he serves." Lucien had told Cersei after she had responded with anger.

But Tywin did not need a single soldier or a maester. Neither of them were of any consequence in this matter. He needed information, he needed spies, he needed his son.

Or turn his attention towards his grandson Gerrion if Lucien was outside his grasp.

As always he kept his rage measured, he would not reduce himself to petulant public fits. He would not be laughed at like his father had been. But he could impose his will, and anyone near him could feel his anger emanating off of him.

The wrath of Tywin Lannister was a terrible thing to behold. When it appeared, blood flowed over stone, soil, and water. The recipients of his anger did not often live long.

This war, this farce had been going long enough. Malicious lies and slander had spat in the face of everything he had built in these last decades. Now, this war was a direct threat to all that he had toiled for. He had fought multiple wars, but he would be remembered for this one.

After his sons' failure he was of half a mind to take to the battlefield himself and personally see to his enemy's destruction. It was the side of him that he often ignored. It was foolish, and similar actions had led to Lucien's defeat. He was needed in Kings Landing to maintain his grip on his erratic grandson, and wars could be won with more than martial skills. It would need to be the case, currently the Crown and its allies were out-manned by the rebels…..for now.

Lucien had been learning from his father since he could scarcely speak in complete sentences. Everything from body language, to the ability to instill a sense of command and authority, even his brutal pragmatic nature had been adopted. Lucien Lannister had served his father for decades all for the opportunity to take his father's place, and even when war had broken out he seemed to be a worthy successor.

Tywin had always been resistant to offer praise, but even in the context of an unnecessary and dangerous war had gained a certain amount of pride in the performance of his son.

 _Lucien did what was necessary. He was not afraid of bloodshed, and his capture of Riverrun was cunning. His reputation was imposing, he was a man to be feared. Most importantly he was patient. Everything that I told him he had applied. Yes he was patient….and then he was not._

That was all it had taken. One mistake, one rush to a quick resolution. That haste had been his downfall. It was why brutality was necessary, the world was cruel, and one mistake or act of mercy could be the end of everything. You either ruled or you died. There was no safe median.

Lucien had been able to wage the entire war from Riverrun, keeping up constant communication with Kings Landing by keeping a constant base of operations. Once he left the castle, it was the beginning of his end.

"Father" Cersei remarked. Her usual haughty arrogant tone was absent. She was far from stupid and was being incredibly cautious recently. As if she were tiptoeing across hot coals. She was going out of her away to not provoke him in his anger. "Every precaution was taken, Baelish informed for us. Misfortune conspired against us."

"A conspiracy? Most certainly there was one." Tywin replied with a voice that would send a shiver down a grown man's spine. "Carried out by the Arryn boy and the brainless advisers of his who convinced him to defy the Crown."

"Woe to any man who had a hand in this treason." Cersei agreed. "Once Stannis Baratheon is food for the ravens and Tommen set to succeed as Lord of Storm's End, a suitable replacement for the Arryn boy should be found. The Lords of the Vale cannot be trusted, they were complacent in this rebellion. An outsider is needed."

"Enough of that, we have more pressing concerns. Armies will soon be upon our gates." Tywin said curtly. "Lord Stark and Lord Arryn's armies are on the march. They have been slowed down but they are coming. My grandson has chosen this moment to go silent. He remains at Harrenhall at the moment does he not? He will have to move soon or be overrun."

"Your grandson's forces remain at that dreadful fortress." The plump powdered Lord Varys replied.

Tywin did not reject the existence of the gods as his son Lucien did. He believed in their existence, but he simply ignored them. It was this belief that had caused Tywin in the past to suspect Varys as holding some black art or sorcery. Tywin ruled with cold brutal logic, but the quantity of information the Varys seemed to acquire should be impossible. That amount was only what he shared, everyone kept their close secrets at court and Varys was certainly no different. The fact that the seemingly omnipotent eunuch had warned him about the Vale too late either showed a fault in the reaction time of the Spider's spies, or the delay had been deliberate.

 _Woe to the eunuch if I find that to be the case. His castration will not compare to what I could arrange._

"Several ravens have not returned here to the capital. It is my determination they are being killed in transit." Varys continued.

"Then Lucien's boy is left to his own wits and Ser Kevan's guidance. So be it. We will see what kind of man he is."

The meeting continued. It seemed to endure forever, with war approaching the tactical defense of the city needed to be established. He would make do with what he had, though it was far short of acceptable.

Throughout it all, the insult of his son's capture still festered in his mind. Doubt swirling in his mind that he decisively crushed with sheer will and continued to command his servants with a voice of authority.

Had the Vale stayed neutral, Lucien would have ridden back to Kings Landing by now with the Northern Lords' heads in a box. Instead the war had evolved from slow moving but in control to a full blown catastrophe.

Varys' reports had been consistent from the Vale. The Vale had been absolutely silent. Then it changed seemingly on a whim. They were organizing, and fast. So fast it boarded on a frenzy, until an entire army was ready to march towards the unsuspecting Riverlands.

Tywin had sent Lord Baelish to the Eyrie to force Lord Arryn to aid the crown. Initially Tywin took the boy's inaction for cowardice. Baelish had influence over the young boy in his youth, and the aid of the Vale would have brought a decisive end to the conflict. Marriage and military alliances were arranged, Baelish himself stood to personally benefit greatly for brokering the Vale's support. At least that is what Baelish was led to believe, Lucien had made it clear to not give the man anything in the end.

Varys's spies confirmed Baelish was expressing Tywin's will faithfully. If he had not, Baelish's escort comprised of men loyal to Tywin would have killed the Master of Coin quite quickly.

But it had not been necessary, Baelish was playing his part and the Arryn boy was summoning his Lords together. Tywin had even wrote the boy himself, putting the alliance in motion. It was progressing far to slowly however, then it became silent. Again, he assumed cowardice.

It had all changed course in a single letter from Baelish that had been sealed by wax in the likeness of a mockingbird.

 _"Take heed Lord Hand, and assemble your defenses in haste. You will find no allies in the Eyrie. Lord Arryn has become illogical, quick to anger, and within a single day has decided that he is intent to march south and engage Lord Lucien in the field. My advice has been shunned, madness and delusions of grandeur has clearly plagued his youthful mind. The Vale is on the march and they will engage quickly. I shall do all I can to preserve the Crown's interests here in the Eyrie. Lord Arryn has forbade me the ability to leave. The escort that accompanied me have been killed._

A letter had been immediately sent to Riverrun, but Lucien Lannister had not been there to receive it. In a cruel twist of fate, Lord Stark had given himself up in a vulnerable position and Lucien had left the comfort of Riverrun to run him down. The letter of warning had only been received by a horrified castellan, and the riders sent after the army were too late.

Tywin Lannister would not stand by and have his future set to ruin by the sudden whim of a Lord who was barely of age. There would be retribution.

It did not help matters that Baelish was at the center of this mess. A man who Lucien had warned him of, and had prepared successors to take over as Master of Coin. Tywin himself had studied Littlefinger's work, searching for a method in the man's financial madness. He had enough success to be satisfied that Littlefinger's usefulness was nearing an end. Men like him only survived because they were useful. Baelish would have been used due to his supposed influence over Lord Arryn, he would be closely watched, and then when he was successful he would have been removed. Men were swept overboard at sea all the time. That had been Lucien's recommendation.

When Tywin had arrived to take the position of Hand, Lucien had given his impression of Baelish.

"As you know, Baelish is a slippery little bastard. But he is twice as cleaver as I initially believed. He has his fingers everywhere in Kings Landing and beyond. He has made many men rich, and become incredibly popular. Most of all, he is useful. He can summon coin like no other. And worst of all he is necessary. He can be used, but not relied upon. I have studied the crown's ledgers for two years, and I do not understand half of what he is doing. He is getting his coin from investments all around Westeros. Shipyards, brothels, farm land. Name anything that makes coin, he has a hand in it. No one knows how he does it. If he is gone, no one knows how to run his investments without him. Not yet, we must discover how to do so. Cut him out of the process and we can gain every advantage the man gives us without needing the man any longer. I don't presume to order you to do anything my Lord. But head my advice. Littlefinger is clever, and he covers his tracks. Our wealth is vast, but I do not intend to waste it. What good is controlling the Iron Throne if the weight of it bears down on our weary backs until it crushes us? Littlefinger is the Crown's wet nurse. It needs him until it can sustain itself, and for that accomplishment he may very well be a genius."

"An ambitious genius. The worst kind. So it is his death you desire? Yet he is necessary for the time being. Once his necessity has expired he can be swiftly retired if you feel it to be sensible." Tywin had responded.

"I do not wish you to spend your remaining years in a financial mess. When we wean ourselves off this wet nurse, then dispose of him. Or send him to me, and I will pay him back what he is due."

While reminiscing about this encounter that gnawed at his brain in hindsight, his mind also wondered to the letter he had received and burned this morning that had come from none other than Petyr Baelish. The man who Lucien had sought to condemn to death could very well be his savior. The gods always did enjoy their little jokes.

 _Lord Lucien has been moved to the security of the Eyrie, he resides in imprisonment far beyond the reach of any army. He is not out of my reach my Lord Hand. I will see him returned to you._

It seemed Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish would be needed for the time being.

* * *

 **Gerrion:**

"We cannot stay here. If we do, it will be the end of everything." He spoke quietly, almost a whisper. A whisper that was nearly overtaken by the swirling winds. Gerrion had grown up in Casterly Rock and had always adored the sights and smells of the outdoors. The sights from the Rock over the sea especially. But here everything was black, grey, and dead looking. The smells that hung over the air where of too many unwashed people packed tightly within castle walls. His uncle took his quiet tone to be coming from fear and submission.

"Now is not the time to be afraid Gerrion. If the men see that their Lord is hesitant, they will not fight with confidence. We will have lost before we have even began." Jaime said with an edge.

"We have already begun, and a poor beginning it was."

The Kingslayer closed the distance between him and his nephew. "You are strong for a young man, do not falter when you are needed the most."

Gerrion continued to look over the horizon. The two of them were on the battlements of Harrenhall, once a mighty castle it had been turned into a husk of its former glory. Considering the drawbacks House Lannister had received, Gerrion found it incredibly ominous that he found himself here. He was eager to leave, the issue was where he would go next.

"I am not weak, I will not break. But this should never have come to pass. This war was my father's to wage. He was so confident that he had this war in the palm of his hand and that he could squeeze and crush it without much difficulty. It was a mirage, it slipped through his fingers and I must scramble to pick up the shattered pieces."

Gerrion spit over the side and turned away to face his Uncle. It had been difficult between them of late, ever since Gerrion was convinced that the accusations towards Jaime were true. Yet, squiring for Ser Jaime had been the highlight of his youth. It was hard to put those feelings aside and get properly angry. It did not help matters that Jaime had caught on to Gerrion's attitude and was noticeably more delicate around Gerrion. This made Gerrion always feel as if he were the villain whenever he was critical of his Uncle.

 _None of this matters in the moment I suppose. If we lose this war both of our heads will be on spikes all the same. Perhaps I should have let myself be captured and let my cousin keep his hand, Lord Tywin may have sued for peace with his legacy in the balance._ The thought made Gerrion almost laugh, Grandfather would not compromise, not for his father Lucien and not for him.

"Enough! Do not be so dour! We have a war to win." Jaime said this quietly so that his voice did not carry towards anyone he did not wish to overhear.

"You are not alone, Gerrion." Jaime's voice still held complete confidence as it always did. It was not carefree as it had been before the war. But the confidence was still there, and it was convincing enough for Gerrion to regain some confidence in himself for a moment. "As a squire you always tried to accomplish everything on your own. You always were able to. I have seen you closely these last months, you are a Lord and worthy of the title."

The words were unexpected, and for the briefest of moments, Gerrion could put his anger at his uncle's incestuous relations aside.

"Kind words Uncle, they do not suit your personality in the least. Did you offer my father the same encouragement?"

"No, he would have resented the sentimentality. He would have demanded I stop mocking him and then told me to fuck off. You must have noticed he can be a prick at times." Jaime replied in the glib tone he used before the war

Gerrion let a quick laugh escape him. "On occasion." He said with a small smile. The smile faltered "I failed him."

Jaime snorted. "As did his scouts, and his soldiers, and his spies. As did I. You ask the impossible of yourself."

"I demand the impossible of myself, I will never reach it, but in failing to do so I will accomplish everything that I should need to. I do not love my father, but I do not wish to resign him to captivity or worse."

Gerrion had demanded that he be given proof that his father still lived. A messenger had been sent to see his father and reported back.

"Lord Lucien is alive, though I cannot say he is well." The messenger had said nervously. "He gave strict instructions for you my Lord, he made me swear on many things that I would tell it to you true. He said to fight this war with valor, to not let his imprisonment influence you in any way and to do what must be down for the good of your House. To care for your sisters and mother should he never return."

Gerrion had sat alone for a long time after hearing his father's message. He had never seen his father as anything but self-serving. Yet he had told his son to lead regardless of the consequences to his own self.

 _I fear he may die. But he will have died a brave man in the end. A boarder line evil man dying with some honor._

"I have known Lucien all his life, when he is pressured he bites back. He curses, he fights dirty, and even in defeat he gains something. He will not submit meekly and he will not be silenced. He will roar, whether he survives or not is out of our hands. And when this threat is passed we will fight for him."

"Then may the gods show him the favor that he never gave them."

With that Gerrion began to walk across the battlements and Jaime stayed right by his side. Soldiers on watch greeted and bowed to him as they passed.

"The Northern and Vale armies are coming in haste, and we have yet to hear back from Lord Tywin. Why? He has always sought to dictate my every move. I do not know how he has the time." Gerrion said.

"My father works day and night, I doubt his aid is tardy. The enemy scouts are all around us. They are likely shooting down some of the ravens. They may have stopped an important message. Send more letters, urgently" Jaime spoke as they rounded a corner.

"It is too late. If we make a stand here we will fail, there are too many of them. We must join a garrison. Retreat to the Lion's Tooth and protect the Westerlands and Casterly Rock, or reinforce Kings Landing. Either way, we leave one area weaker, or divide our forces between the two and stretch our army thin. I cannot leave the Westerlands weak, they will not be able to withstand the brunt of the army that is coming for them. Why should men fight for their Lord when their own homes are burning? I will sent the bulk of the army to our homeland, with a smaller force towards the capital. The sell swords from Essos will soon arrive on the Blackwater, and the Tyrell's should be closing in on protecting the capital as well."

"Sell swords are unreliable, I do not trust them with the safety of the capital."

 _You killed your King who you were sworn to and you deem others unreliable?_ Gerrion did not voice it aloud. Perhaps it was a childish response. His father's stories about King Arys proved that man needed to be put down, honor be damned.

"You stand by your recommendation Uncle? Flee to Kings Landing in nearly full force like a frightened mouse and beg Lord Tywin's pardon for failing so miserably?"

Jaime started to get agitated. His fingers instinctively tapped the pommel of his sword and his face began to turn red.

"If the Red Keep falls all is lost. Without a king, the flimsy truces and alliances with the rest of the realm could collapse and our failure would be assured."

A reasonable argument, but Gerrion could not help but think that Jaime had a personal stake in this decision and it was influencing his advice. A desire to protect a certain someone in the Red Keep.

"The Red Keep will stand, it must and it will. The force will be sufficient, once Lord Tyrell gets off his lazy ass and finishes the Baratheons the capital will be impenetrable. I will not return to my lands to see them destroyed." Gerrion said, his mind beginning to be made up. "A hard decision, but it will be the right one."

Gerrion folded his fingers together and licked his lips, which had become dry. The wind was howling now, a chill was in the air and he should be cold, yet he could feel beads of sweat running down his neck.

"A man is defined by his hard choices that he makes, when there is no clear answer. Another of my father's sayings. I despise Lord Tywin's plot. It is brutal and cruel, but it will occur. Kings Landing will be safe uncle. Cersei will be safe."

Jaime took the implied reference to his relations in stride. "There is that confidence again, good you will need it." Jaime said as looked away.

Then he looked back, approached closely, and through the howling wind spoke directly in Gerrion's ear. "Yes I love her. I always have, closer than you will ever experience with the Tyrell girl. More so than my brother and Lady Lysa. More than any union between a man and women on this Kingdom. We were made for each other. I have lied for her time and time again, but you have earned the truth for me. You are determined to believe it anyway. No more secrets or deception, not towards you, I respect you too much for that. A man with a promising future, if the world does not cheat you as it seems to do for most promising men. Your decency may be the death of you. I have always been fond of you Gerrion, a shame that you were not my own son."

Gerrion pulled away and leaned against a corner of the wall, he took an apple out of the basket of rations for the soldiers and took several long bites in order to give him time to think of what to say.

"Your aid was always welcome Uncle, and you were always more affectionate than my own father. It makes my disappointment all the more potent."

Gerrion sighed and glanced to the western horizon towards the Westerlands and Casterly Rock. The city of Lannisport and many other populous villages in his lands. People that he as acting Lord of Casterly Rock had sworn to protect. Towards his sisters and mother, his wife Margery and their unborn child, and where the armies of the North and Vale would be arriving soon.

"I am far past anger. Take four thousand men Ser Jaime, join the existing garrison and ensure not a single man breaches the walls of Kings Landing. Give my explanations to Lord Tywin. He did not defer the protection of his lands to my father to see them assaulted and ravaged."

"If he disagrees, I am sure he will find forgiveness for you. If not there is still hope. Tyrion and I have disappointed him for decades and still found ways to endure."

Jaime bowed his head to Gerrion ever so slightly. "I will do as my Lord commands. I wish you well, nephew."

"And you Uncle."

Jaime began to take his leave and Gerrion almost let him go, but he needed to ask one more thing of him.

"One more thing, give my regards to Tommen and Myrcella. They are very sweet children, be the father to them that Robert Baratheon failed to be."

An apprehensive look passed over Jaime's face which turned into determination before he walked away.

* * *

 **Lysa**

Rain trickled down her face. Her black gown, which she had worn regularly of late was nearly completely soaked through.

She felt none of it. No chill at all. She was far too focused now.

How many times had she looked across this landscape towards the sea? Hundreds? Thousands? It had always been a delight, always beautiful.

Now the beauty had been infected, a plague had swept in. Carrying the black flag of a Kraken. A monster as much as the men who took the beast for their sigil.

She remembered the night the Ironborn had burned the Lannisport fleet while it was still docked at the beginning of Balon Greyjoy's rebellion. The flashes of fire had pierced the great vista, and it was the first time she had ever been truly afraid. That was the night Lucien had been along the coastline of Lannisport and had to fight for his life. She had believed him dead for several long painful hours.

Lucien had always had harsh words for the Ironborn. He called them a disease, uncivilized, wild animals, subhuman. The words had been jarring at first, until she had seen the aftermath of their deeds for herself. It was hard to defend them in any way after watching them attack a city. To hear what they did to the people of lands that they raided.

Lucien's preferred comparison for the Ironborn was that they were like a weed. They served no purpose in the world but to steal and choke the lives from others more deserving. Their reaving and pillaging culture was deeply entrenched into their very identity.

He was of a mind that in order to ensure the people on the coast of the continent of Westeros were truly safe, the Iron Isles should be purged.

Completely. With only the young children remaining to be assembled into 'civilized society'.

Balon Greyjoy's rebellion had completely and utterly failed. Ultimately it did not matter. Balon himself had been granted mercy, and just like a weed, the Ironborn grew back.

And they were now about to engage the Lannister fleet within sight of of Lannisport. Within sight of her children.

"Fucking degenerates." Lysa hissed to no one in particular. Her fury was on her now. It came across as a growl, like a lioness snarling at an animal that had the audacity to threaten her pack. "Not here, not now. The Others take them. Sink them, sink them all. See that none of them return to their gods damned island. DAMN THEM ALL TO THE SEVEN HELLS." She found herself screaming at the top of her lungs. The months of frustration, worry, guilt, and suffering poured out of her all at once.

"My lady, you will do no one good if you die of a chill. Get inside."

Lysa did not have to turn around to know the voice that called out to her. The dwarf actually had a hint of concern in his voice.

 _How long have I been in the rain staring hatefully. I cannot truly say._

Of late she had been taken actions that she could not fully explain. She cursed more, was quicker to anger, committed spontaneous actions on a whim.

"For gods sake woman! Scream all you like, but scream where its dry! The sky will drown you before you make up your mind to move!" Tyrion's agitated voice cut through the pounded rain with a thunder of its own.

Lysa merely continued to stare, her eyes burning with rage.

"If you are going to jump then hurry up with it. Do not leave me in suspense! I have warm blankets waiting for me."

"Jump? Why would I jump Tyrion? These maggots, these savages will not touch us. Not for long. I have much to live for. Our lives will not be ending any time soon."

Tyrion was not the one to reply.

"Mother. Come inside." Those simple words from her eldest daughter caused her to spin on her heel and take long strides towards the entryway.

"That's all it took? Really?" She heard Tyrion grumble as she passed. In response she gripped his shoulder.

"Sit with me. We have much to discuss."

Her daughter attended her first. Handmaidens saw to keep her warmed up and refreshed. When she was prepared Tyrion was waiting for her.

"Run along now Philippa." Her daughter must have known that arguing was futile because she did not make the attempt. Instead she planted a single kiss on her mother's cheek.

"Is your suicide attempt over now? Did you plan to stand there in the weather until you rotted away?" The Imp was seated beside a short table built for only two. A jug of wine was in front of him and he had not waited for her arrival to begin.

Lysa seated herself beside him. "No. Some things cannot be explained. But I needed to be there. Just as we need to act. We will speak with the others soon, but now I must speak directly to you."

"How touching." Tyrion remarked sarcastically as he took another swig of wine "They will not be able to scale Casterly Rock from the sea. We shall be safe and secure up in our little fortress. The citizens of Lannisport however face a very different tale. If our fleet does not hold they will meet a very different ending."

"They will not touch Lannisport. Not ever again." Lysa said simply.

"I wish I had your confidence my lady. Your husband planned that Balon Greyjoy may try something of this sort in all this chaos. We were alert and at the ready. However an army approaches from the east. Defending both the sea and land could be quite problematic."

"Then we will have to end this incident quickly. I was told my son slew Theon Greyjoy."

"Indeed, he would have made a nice hostage at the moment."

Lysa then gave Tyrion a smile. A motherly type of smile that she regularly gave her children. Tyrion stared at her with curiosity.

"Lord Tyrion what do you care about besides your own self-preservation? Or the next bottle of wine and women on sale for a single night?"

"You just named all a man needs to live for. But if you are calling into question my commitment to the safety of you and the common people, then have no fear. I love your Philippa as if she were my own. Your younger children are just as sweet. The cruel world has not sunk its claws into them yet. And there are thousands like them less privileged down below. Vile, lustful little vagabond that I am, I still do not intend to let the innocent die, be they in Casterly Rock or the poorhouses in Lannisport."

"Good. You enjoy playing the part of the monster do you not? Yet you are the least vile child of Lord Tywin's brood. Gerrion will come for us. The boy has a kind heart, he will see to our land's protection. Our fight is in front of us Lord Tyrion. Towards these barbarians. It is time to test the brilliance of your mind. My husband brought his fist upon these barbarians, my son slew the Greyjoy heir. Now you, the clever lustful little vagabond will send these barbarians to meet their Drowned God after we hurl them under the waves for all eternity."

Lysa spoke with such certainty, she began to believe it herself. She would not sit back, this was just as much her war as her husbands. She would be fighting for all she held dear.


	20. Lucien VIII

**Lucien: Three weeks ago**

It was cruel of them to wake him at this hour, he had just fallen asleep. Sleep was hard to come by.

Every night that he was deprived of sleep damaged his psyche all the more. The worst part of captivity was the deprivation of the things that all highborn Lords take for granted. Good food, comfortable beds, and never ending selection of companions. Even Lucien, who did not usually begin casual conversation, would have sold a sack of gold to have a normal person to converse with.

However, anyone who wished to talk to him were usually guards giving blunt orders or Lord Stark. Eddard Stark had visited him the one time and never again. Hell, at this point Lucien would have been eager to talk to the man even despite the pain that came from speaking.

Lucien had seen himself as very isolated. But he was coming to know how truly terrible real isolation was. He was truly afraid of being alone.

The noise had awoken him before they entered. It would have awoken the soundest sleeper. Heavy ring mail and armored boots had thunderous noise that could easily have awoken the damned.

They entered in his modest cell one by one under the sky full of stars, a procession of knights marched near him without saying a word. Their faces were unreadable, they were there to do their duty and nothing more. It was dark, but Lucien could still tell that the men were of the Vale. Northmen were quite distinct, and of late Lucien had seen less and less of them. He was moved from camp to camp, and he suspected he was outside of the Northmen's influence. The soldiers' identities were absolutely confirmed a few moments later after the knights had completely encircled him.

Lord Robert Arryn entered the cell with a wide and joyful smile on his face. The smile did not suit the boy's face at all. Even if you had never met Robert Arryn before, you would know that smile was completely unnatural.

Despite his isolation, Lucien had no intention of giving the boy any satisfaction. The Lord was a boy, and not worthy of anything. Jon Arryn's son was seventeen years old and completely unremarkable. To think he had nearly betrothed his sweet beloved daughter Philippa to this insipid boy made Lucien inwardly curse himself. Philippa had called Lord Arryn "As dull as a stone, and just as talkative." The fact that he was in chains because of this boy's army made him want to scream like a siren.

Or kill Lord Arryn, either one would do.

Being tied to a thick wooden post, Lucien could merely sit upright, and the young Lord towered over him. Again the boy held that peculiar smile.

 _He never smiled once in Kings Landing. It is a show and a farce, just a young little prick who wants to flaunt his supposed accomplishments in my face that were achieved by much better men. You have not bested me boy. Your Vale army could not have stood against me alone in a straight fight. And you yourself are no commander, I can see that just by the look of you._

Lord Arryn ran his fingers through his hair, much the way young men did in order to look handsome and impressive. Lucien wanted to roll his eyes and he did not bother to stifle his yawn.

"And who are you the proud Lord said, that I must bow so low." Lord Arryn began. He sang the words and there was chill in the tone as harsh as a bitterly cold wind. His singing voice was actually not half bad. "I would ask you to bow my Lord, but you have already been brought so low."

"Spare me your pretty little voice, boy." Lucien sneered. He instinctively ground his teeth as he usually did when he was annoyed. Of course he realized too late that most of those teeth were no longer there, and the splinters that remained collided together painfully. He looked away briefly to hide his pain, but out of the corner of his eye he noted that Lord Arryn's eyes flashed with anger. It was brief, and then it was gone.

"You have brought many armored men for this little display. Lord Stark approached me himself, faced me in single combat. A true man, whatever I may think of him. Do I frighten you that you cannot bring yourself to do the same?"

Lord Arryn took a step closer. "Fear?" The young Lord said. "Why should I fear you? No these man, these honorable knights have a purpose Lord Lannister. A vital importance."

The young Lord continued to grin as he proceeded to come even closer before he continued to speak.

"I have come to hear you sing Lord Lannister. It will be very pleasing to my ears. I heard your daughter sing once at Kings Landing. It was quite pleasant, truth be told. She has quite the gift and I was truly blessed to experience it. I'll be sure to have her sing for me again at Casterly Rock."

 _Fat chance of that boy, you will not set foot in Casterly Rock. Absolutely absurd. You would die long before you reached the castle walls, and the Rock is impenetrable. It will never be conquered, and certainly not by you._

Lucien was hesitant to dignify the statement with a response, and yet the implied threat towards his daughter began to ignite the inferno that was where his heart should be. His blood began pumping, his mind become singularly focused. It was much the way he felt on the battlefield, where the beast inside every man was unleashed.

"Dismiss your chaperones boy and come closer and I will sing for you for the rest of your life."

Arryn's knights took a step towards Lucien as one, but the boy raised his arms and waved them about in a relaxed manner as he laughed jovially.

"It is quite all right men, quite all right. Lord Lucien is expressing his wit is all! I did not think he was capable of quips! You would not have to sing long, my life would be quite short if I obeyed." He continued to flash that smile of his as he chuckled. "I am afraid I cannot do that my Lord, not yet. Nor can my noble knights leave. They have a part to play. They are to help you with your performance, and after all what would be the point if I was the only one in the audience."

Lucien had tolerated too much of this farce. "Enough of this nonsense. You are a young man, surely you have more exciting things to do at this hour."

Lucien weighed his options, he was a prisoner of war and a valuable one at that. They would have to abandon all tactical sense to lay hands on him. He may as well insult this cretin and be done with it.

"Go plough a whore. There will be camp followers all around, find a girl to warm your bed. Or a man if that strikes your interest. Or am I really that interesting to you? Get down on your hands and knees and I'll be your best and last, boy."

It may not have been the wisest choice of words. But he was drained, beaten, sore, in pain, and beyond frustrated. Rationality seemed to be slipping away from him with each passing hour. Perhaps those insults had been a burst of insanity. But it had felt good to say those things, to hiss with resentment and scorn. To feel superior again, if only for a fleeting moment.

The moment was very fleeting.

Lucien's head lurched backward and slammed into the wooden post behind his head. If the post had not been so thick it would certainly have snapped.

Lucien blinked slowly in surprise and reached instinctively for his nose. He could feel that it was bent at an awkward angle, and blood covered his hand when he pulled his hand away.

One of the guards had kicked him in the head. He tried to focus, and saw two blurry Lord Arryns approaching him. Blinking furiously he still could not see straight before the guards came down upon him. They were rough and held him firm, he could not move an inch. The armor that they wore was chilling to the touch.

He could see straight enough when Lord Arryn bent down beside his prone figure. His smile was gone. Then he drew out a knife. It was a hunting knife, Lucien noted. Used to skin animals, and very sharp.

Arryn pressed the tip of the blade to Lucien's forehead slowly.

"Call me boy again." The boy hissed with malice.

Lucien, entrapped in the grasp of many armed men, simply stared back. He would not show fear. Not now. What did he have to fear? Death? It would be a mercy.

"This is not the typical treatment for highborn lords, but you will not find a single man here who would object. Lord Stark is far from here, no honor will save you from me." The boy said as he started to breathe heavily. He was excited, Lucien realized.

"Are you ready to sing Lord Lannister?" He lightly pressed the blade into Lucien's skin and then pulled it back, dangling the blade between the two of them.

Lucien's roared back with all his strength and spat in Lord Arryn's eye. He was far beyond caring now. He was sick of laying on the ground like a docile lamb. Let the pain come, he was used to it by now. This boy did not frighten him at all.

"Do your worst boy!"

The boy did his worst.

Every man or woman that caught sight of Lucien Lannister after this night would take a second look out of morbid curiosity and scatter when they realized who it was. Children backed away in fear, and Lucien was a common feature of tales that children told to frighten their peers and siblings. The dozen scars that ran across the entire length of his face would become as infamous as his name. The very last of his passable features were slowly cut away.

His chest was cut as well, and Lord Arryn took a toe and a finger on his left hand for good measure.

Ultimately however, Lord Arryn would walk away disappointed. The humiliation he had hoped for had not come to pass despite his best efforts. Lucien Lannister would have died that night had he continued for much longer.

Despite unrelenting torture, Lucien Lannister had only offered grunts, hisses, and pure defiance to offer. Perhaps it was divine intervention. By all rational sense he should have screamed a thousand times over.

* * *

In a way, Lord Arryn had killed a man that night. The Lord of Lannister would never be the same again. It was the boy's first kill. He had never been skilled with a sword and never been in a life or death scenario.

Lord Arryn was absolutely assured of the Lannister's downfall, and could not wait for it to come to pass. There had been preparation for years. He had no intention of letting Lucien Lannister walk away a free man, or letting this war end on peace terms. As a hostage Lucien Lannister had no purpose to Lord Arryn. But Lucien could not be allowed to die. Robert Arryn would take his mentor Petyr Baelish's advice and send the captured members of the great Houses to the Eyrie. Soon the Kingslayer and the new up and coming Commander Gerrion Lannister would join their kin in chains. They would endure as trophies, previously great men left as visual representations of the power that House Arryn would now wield in the coming generation.

Those thoughts gave Robert Arryn some satisfaction as he departed his victim's defiant presence.

* * *

Physical and mental stress, along with rapid social change made a man quickly reset his priorities. Lucien was left alone in the dark in a secure tent. It was clear they did not want him to lay in the dirt and mud, get an infection, and then die.

His well-being and selfish political scheming and maneuvering no longer mattered to him. His disdain for Jaime's arrogance and Tyrion's slothful disregard for responsibility no longer mattered. His anger over the origins of this war no longer mattered. His feud with Lord Stark was a distant memory.

He was left with silent guards around him. They may as well have not been there at all. He was left with nothing but his thoughts and the blood that pooled around him.

 _No one would mourn Lucien Lannister,_ He mused. His daughters would, but he had always had a soft spot for them and showed them affection. After what he did to Riverrun, Lysa was an uncertainty. Everyone else in his life he had treated with disdain. His dwarf brother, his fellow Lords and Ladies, the common folk, even childhood friends, all of them. He had put such an enormous amount of pressure on his son and heir without a hint of love. He had labored and toiled and bled to play the game of thrones and what had it earned him? What good had become of it?

Ruins. A shattered family, and he himself would likely soon be a feast for the crows. History would remember him unkindly, as a failure.

 _What an arrogant, spiteful, waste of a man I was. A miser and a fool. A second chance is all I need. I shall seize it, grasp it by the throat. I will begin anew, and become the man I need to be._

He had viewed the gods with as much disdain as he showed men, going so far as denying their very existence. He had not said a single prayer to the Seven since his mother died and when he had overheard his father rebuking his sister Cersei for praying for their mother to return.

He had to struggle to remember even the basic prayers. But he cobbled something passable together for all seven gods. The Stranger would be offered Lord Arryn as a sacrifice, he promised himself that.

These prayers would likely never be answered. Even if the gods existed, why would they listen to him? He said them all the same, and directed his prayers not towards himself but to his family. Those who truly mattered.

The first prayers for the individuals came easily. His wife, children, and father: Lysa, Gerrion, Philippa, Sile, Jainifer, Tristifer, Brynden, Lord Tywin, even Uncle Kevan, Aunt Genna, Myrcella, and Tommen.

The others he hesitated on before he continued with his siblings: Jaime, Cersei, Tyrion.

At the end of it all he was past exhaustion, yet the pain would not allow him sleep. So he simply laid there and prepared himself to make a vow. He had not said a vow since he was anointed a knight, and that experience paled in importance to this moment.

"Find your weaknesses. Learn from them, and then kill them." Lord Tywin had told him when Lucien had been only a boy.

Lucien himself was a weakness. He saw that now. His very approach in life could have led to the destruction of all he held dear.

Lord Arryn's words pricked and prodded his mind. _Casterly Rock, he is going to Casterly Rock. Never!_

He knew what he had to do. _Kill your weakness._

"I swear it." He vowed, with no one but the oblivious guards as witnesses. "I swear it on the gods of my mother. May I be struck down and sent to the seven hells if I am false."

The man that was Lord Lucien Lannister would have to die, and then he would be reborn from the ashes.


	21. Eddard VIII Lucien IX

**Eddard: 3 weeks later**

This war was approaching its climax.

He remembered how he felt on the eve of the battle on the Trident during Robert's Rebellion. How the fate of all seven kingdoms hung in the balance.

Now near two decades later, Westeros stood on the precipice of revolution that would shake the continent. Taking Kings Landing would be no simple task, it would not fall quickly like it did to Tywin Lannister during the Mad King's Rein. Even so, after fighting for so long in the Riverlands, the march forward towards the capital felt like the beginning of a new chapter in this war. A final chapter. Whether it would end in victory or defeat was far from certain. The man that had sacked Kings Landing now resided in the capital that he had pillaged. Defeating Tywin's son had come about with great difficulty and an amount of good fortune. Defeating Tywin himself was a daunting task, but the realm was closing around the 'Old Lion'.

Doran Martell surely fumed over the murder of his sister Elia. If he sensed the end of the Lannisters was possible, Eddard expected Dorne to take action.

The Tyrell family and the power of the Reach still supported the Lannisters due to the marriage of Mace Tyrell's daughter to Lucien's son. But their forces had been locked in a critical stalemate that the Lannisters could ill afford. Stannis Baratheon was an exceptional battle commander and he proved more than a match for the larger Tyrell force. Lord Randall Tarly's death had been a hard blow for Mace Tyrell to overcome and there had been dissention in the Tyrell family as well. Loras Tyrell had disappeared from the Tyrell camp and had been seen with Renly Baratheon before the later man's death. Rumors had run rampant that the two men were lovers. Other said Ser Loras had assassinated Lord Renly. In either case, no one could locate Ser Loras in the aftermath.

Eddard felt far older than his thirty-six years as he leaned on his cane. He would be forced command from the reserve and it was a small miracle that he was able to be present at all. He prayed to the Old Gods every night with thanks for allowing him to live after his encounter with Lucien Lannister.

Lannister's blade had been honed to be razor sharp, and when it pierced his leg the pain had been incredible. It could have only been the Old Gods that gave him the strength in that moment to avoid the strike that was meant to sever his head from his shoulders. The Gods must have intervened, because now he found it difficult to stand. The healers had assured him that his leg would mend properly in the future. But the future may never come, he was needed here. Stannis Baratheon had compelled him to aid in securing his rightful throne, and as strong as Robb Stark was, Eddard had no intention on laying that burden in his son's hands.

That was a poor choice of words.

Despite being crippled, his son stood beside him with a presence that impressed Eddard beyond words. The boy…no the man…was a natural leader.

Robb gave directions to the men assembled by pointing about a map of the soon to be battlefield with his one remaining hand. His own cousin Gerrion had severed it in personal combat, and he had also slew Theon Greyjoy, who Robb had grown to be as close as brothers with. Despite all of this, Robb had not damned the Lannister heir.

"My cousin wants no part in this war. There was palpable regret. He can be reasoned with, we do not need to decimate all those who defend the false King." Robb had told him afterwards. "When he goes to one knee, we must be there to raise him back to his feet."

There was maturity present that went beyond his nearly sixteen years.

It was all the more apparent when contrasted with another near his age. He was a year older than Robb, yet still a boy.

Eddard had absolutely opposed Lord Arryn when he took a sizeable amount of the Vale's forces to attack the Westerlands. Yes, it caused the Lannisters to abandon Harrenhall and divide a portion of their forces west to protect their land. But they would have had to abandon Harrenhall anyway in the face of unfavorable odds, and a successful siege of Casterly Rock was improbable. It would be the lands of the Lannisters bannermen that would be under attack, and the Vale army would not be able to quickly aid the main force near Kings Landing if it was needed.

All that had happened was that some of the fighting would be moved elsewhere, and since the Vale force outnumbered the Lannister force in the west, the net result negatively affected Eddard's attack in the East.

The Greyjoy fleet was attacking the Lannister fleet near Lannisport, and now Lord Arryn sought to attack the Westerlands by land as well. The area was in danger for being crippled by war as badly as the Riverlands had been. Such loss before a long winter would be devastating for the region.

It was difficult to see this war as the honorable course of action when it caused such hardship all around you.

Not for the first time Eddard longed for the days before Robert had come to Winterfell. When Bran could still move his legs and still had a joyful personality, Sansa had not grown sullen after being removed from Kings Landing, and Robb fought with practice swords instead of the steel that had removed his sword hand. It had not been perfect, and his lie about Jon had hung over everything like a raging thundercloud. But those had been simpler times.

"The reinforcements from Lord Stannis will approach soon. The men he could spare when added to our strength will outnumber the Lannister garrison outside the walls." Robb was saying.

"The Kingslayer will not meet us in an open field when outmanned to this degree. He is brave, yet sensible. He will join his father beyond the walls of the capital. It is the only way the Kingslayer's garrison would not be slaughtered." Eddard added, his eyes fixated on the map depicting the capital.

"Lord Tywin will keep his best men from the slaughter and the Kingslayer will not stay for it." Lord Yohn Royce stated. He was the main commander left in charge of the Vale army that marched towards the capital while Lord Arryn marched west. "Sellswords will be sent after us in waves to keep us occupied and it is far easier to send them to die than bannermen."

"No doubt about that." Lord Glover shouted out with a thunderous voice. "Lord Tywin will not have to spend as much time on the privy shitting out their full golden reward if many of those hired bastards die."

That generated laughter from those assembled. Hearty laughter that was extinguished as quickly as it came when the next man spoke. The difference in volume could not have greater between the Lord of the Dreadfort and the loud Lord Glover, yet the quiet man had far more impact.

"Time is not on Lord Tywin's side, while our forces have all the time we desire to take. Lannister's own lands will soon be under siege. Will he trust his grandson to protect his lands after his own son has fallen and while Greyjoy's fleet is barring down unto Lannisport as well? The man is stubborn and patient, but there are limits. Push the Kingslayer hard so that he runs for his life behind the capital's walls and punish the sellswords that take his place. Show no quarter to these hired thugs. Let it be known far and wide that any military contract with Tywin Lannister is a death sentence. Then wait the patient man out, and while he cowers behind his walls, we will be able to spare reinforcements to Stannis Baratheon and end Mace Tyrell's campaign."

Lord Roose Bolton commented in a voice near a whisper, yet every commander in the room heard him clearly. When the Lord of the Dreadfort spoke, everyone listened. Eddard had grown accustomed to Lord Bolton's presence over the years, yet the man's words still carried a chill that was bitterly cold. Bolton history was infamous, and while the old way of flaying victims had been outlawed, Lord Bolton was the perfect living representation for the House's fearsome legacy.

Lord Bolton was seeking a new wife after the death of his son and heir, only a bastard son remained for the Leach Lord. Eddard pitied the next Lady of the Dreadfort. If grown men of the North were unnerved by Lord Bolton, what chance did a young maiden have?

Eddard wished to feel confident, but he knew it could not possibly be this simple. He lifted his cane and hit it into the ground. Not aggressively, yet with authority, so that every man gave him their full attention.

"The realm is crumbling around Tywin Lannister. It may very well bury the man in the end. But we should ensure that this war for Stannis Baratheon's crown does not cost his realm more than it can bear. Winter is coming. With harvests destroyed, our own men exhausted, and the people of Kings Landing starved, the coming cold may bury more men, women, and children than the Lannisters ever have."

* * *

 **Lucien**

The journey had been long, and Lucien had little more to do than think. Even that proved difficult when travelling at fast speeds while bound up. The fact that the terrain they traveled was rough did not help matters.

He had been interrupted in his daily routine of imprisonment by being blindfolded, gagged, and then dropped onto the back of a horse. He preferred the dirty prison cell to be honest. However, perhaps it was for the best. He was far from able to free himself at an enemy camp, perhaps a change of scenery was what he needed.

Lucien had never been to the Vale, but he knew about the terrain and political climate of every area in the seven kingdoms. It was essential in order to propose kingdom wide policies, and it would come in handy if he ever had to personally enter that region.

The road to the Eyrie was dangerous due to the Mountain clans present along the way. The savages and the shadowcats would take down unprepared travelers. However, the men that comprised his escort were, by the looks of them, hardened warriors including about ten knights. Which would make sense except there were far too many of them for this task. If the journey was so treacherous, surely it would have been better to keep him hostage in the Riverlands. This move took valuable men away from the war. Likely, Lord Arryn wanted Lucien far away from the Starks and any other supposed allies.

Forty men had been assigned to escort him to the Eyrie. He could imagine that many of these men were as displeased as he was with the assignment. The men of the Vale were no cravens, else they would not have been able to defeat the Lannister army even with the element of surprise. Escorting a physically broken man to the Eyrie rather than remaining on the war campaign was sure to get beneath the skin of any proud man. It was rare to meet a knight who was not prideful, and it was hard not to hear them mumble their complaints.

"Keep my pet safe Ser. I shall be saddened if he should run away. You may find him unruly. He does not have much left to bite you with, but be on your guard all the same." Lucien had heard Lord Arryn tell the leader of the escort company. The boy had sent them off personally. "After one night I have grown quite fond of him. But he will not be safe here. Be sure he is set up properly for my victorious return."

This ridiculously overqualified escort was proof that the boy had no idea what he was doing, and that he dedicated more time to playing torture then developing sound strategy.

It was important to keep your eyes opened at all times, in order to gain any possible insight onto your enemies. Lucien's insights led him to be confident where the situation stood.

In no way possible did Lord Arryn orchestrate the Vale's military movement against the Lannister army. It was subtly done, and executed at the perfect time. Lord Arryn was as subtle as being hit in the bollocks with a rock.

Lord Arryn may prance about with false pride, but Lucien was certain that the boy was no more than a puppet. The puppet would have its strings cut in due time, by the puppeteer or another. The true power in the Vale lay elsewhere, and Lucien had a strong suspicion where it came from. There were a handful of candidates, many Lords would compete for the young Lord's ear. It could not be proven, but one candidate in particular made perfect sense. The question was, would Lucien fight this power when imprisoned? Not directly. Even imprisoned, Lucien had power and he intended to use it.

When the escort reached the base of the climb to the Eyrie, the majority of the force made camp, while five men prodded him up the path. They offered to take him up in a basket used to transport food for those unable to make the steep and dangerous climb to the Eyrie. It would raise him up to the castle and avoid the climb by horseback. It would have been a relief after an exhausting journey. Every joint in his body ached. The pain was starting to become intolerable. It was seeping into every thought, and he felt like needles were piercing his brain.

 _This is what madness feels like. Did the Mad King feel the same?_

Pride was on the line. He had only one word in response to that option.

"No."

"You prefer to make things harder on yourself?" His escort leader inquired.

"I always have."

The view would have been lovely if he had dared look down. He was a brave man, but not stupid. The extent of the heights that they were reaching were best left unseen.

On the climb, his horse had slipped and the animal panicked. The frenzy had nearly sent him off over the side. All was settled when their guide, a young women around twenty years of age with short coal-black hair and deep blue eyes, got the animal under control.

The girl was masculine looking, and in a queer way reminded Lucien of Robert Baratheon. Very much so actually. Lucien had spent enough time with the late King to have the features stand out to him.

Robert Baratheon had fostered in the Eyrie actually, about twenty years ago. Lucien stared down the girl as she effortlessly calmed him horse.

 _That is the Baratheon look plain as day. The bastard boy in Kings Landing. The smith apprentice. He had that look too….What had Jon Arryn been raving about on his death bed? 'The seed is strong.' His bastards are clearly his, and not a hint of him in my niece and nephews. Seven hells…it really is true. Cersei you idiot! I should have honored Tyrion more, dwarf or not at least he has a brain for common sense that my twin siblings lack. Joffrey is not Baratheon, nor Tommen or Myrcella. Pure Lannister, oh Father would be so proud!_

He looked at the young women closely.

 _Should I tell this girl that I killed her father? Will she help me up this path then? Oh, perhaps the gods are real, and they are jesting with me. Throwing my sins into my face. Stark's armored gauntlet was more than enough, I do not need any of this. No need to rub salt into my eyes now, I am already blind. I have been for years._

He then closed his eyes and imagined his father reacting to the news that his son he had spent decades grooming for command had died. Not in the glory of battle, but falling off a mountain. Lucien had broken out in laughter at the thought. He had hardly laughed in the past and he found it very liberating.

"Gods! The bastard has lost his mind!" He had heard one of his escort say. They stared at him, clearly believing they were in the presence of a lunatic.

Lucien then pictured Robert Baratheon, in his typical drunken self, berating him for killing a King from the shadows like a coward only to fall to his own death like a damned fool. It made him laugh all the harder.

When he opened his eyes he still saw Robert Baratheon for a brief moment, until he realized it was the King's bastard daughter.

 _It can't be the King. He is dead, I killed him. No, not I, my lackeys did the dirty work. I committed treason and called myself clever._

If Robert Baratheon had found out about his supposed children's parentage he would have put all their heads on spikes. No one but Cersei would morn Joffrey, and she would not morn long as her head would join his. But sweet Tommen and Myrcella….perhaps he had done right by complete accident.

The remainder of the journey took an agonizing amount of time. At the end of it, Lucien was actually relieved to be in captivity rather than climbing the mountain, although he did stare long at Robert Baratheon's bastard until she went about her way.

The following morning his back was straight despite the pain that had been growing over the last week. His head was straight forward as he entered Lady Arryn's audience. He did not blink, he did not flinch. He walked with the authority of a high Lord, as if he commanded those prepared to meet him. As if the knights and those of the court would go to one knee when he arrived as his own men had done for him all his life. His physical physique was shattered. Broken as surely as the prisoners who were dashed upon the rocks far below when they fall through the infamous Moon Door. He would walk into the hall a disfigured man, but he would keep his head high and not enter a weak man.

He was not like his brother Jaime, he never liked to play to the crowd as the Kingslayer did during tournaments. He never had tried to give women a blush by baring a charming smile, even when he was handsome in his youth. A smile today from him would give any maiden a fright.

Lucien always liked to remain in the shadows, assert his authority when he had to, and it had worked since he was a young boy.

He was used to looks of reverence, at times hostility, and even fear. Especially after he had massacred House Harlaw during the Greyjoy Rebellion.

He was not used to what he received now as he entered the main hall in the Eyrie, the seat of House Arryn.

Everyone, from Lady Arryn herself, to knights, to couriers, to ladies of the court. They were all staring. Staring at him, and mostly in shock. A few of them even gasped. The stares were accompanied by looks of satisfaction, as if what had befallen the man before them was just. Unsurprising, no doubt he had been portrayed to them as a vile enemy.

Lucien knew what horrified them. He saw what he looked like. Every child in the seven kingdoms from future lords and ladies to peasants told stories of brave knights who fought awful, ugly, horrible monsters. Grotesque creatures and deformed humans. Lucien could easily pass as one of those monsters. A beggar in the streets might give him a look of pity.

 _Tyrion will be thrilled. Next to me he will look quite dashing._

The travel had done him no favors and he got a few looks at his appearance since his night at Lord Arryn's hands.

What remained of his hair was as brittle as dying grasses. When he returned to civilized society he would have it shaved completely. His entire face was horribly mangled, only his eyes showed any life, but they shined with cold-blooded determination. He felt more invigorated then he had ever felt in his life. In a weird way, he was more confident than he had ever been. He had a mission, a purpose, and it kept his heart beating and his feet moving forward one after another. Perhaps a weaker man would have stopped and succumbed to his fate, but not him. His identity had been stripped down after recent events, but there were things more important than his own self.

Lucien brushed off the stares of the court as if they were little more than a light breeze. He would endure whatever would be said of him and be done with it. Let them gloat, let them sneer. They were nothing. All of their lives, Lady Arryn, the Eyrie itself was irrelevant to him and simply and obstacle on his path to reclaiming what he had lost. He would be gone from this place soon enough. He had told himself this and he had begun to believe it. His life would not end at this castle high up in the Vale of Arryn. All these knights that were present could not stop him. A lion does not concern himself with the opinions of the sheep. There was only one man here that was of any importance. He had not seen him yet, the last he heard he was in Kings Landing, but he was certain that he was here.

The High Hall of the Arryns was a long room with walls of white-blue marble, with the back wall elevated to look down upon the rest of the room. From there a throne carved out of weirwood stood tall and imposing over all that attended.

When he finally approached from down the long hall, Lady Arryn found her voice and a smile as well. She was seated on a lesser throne next to the vacant seat meant for the Lord of the Eyrie. The elevation was an obvious attempt to assert superiority over the others in the room. For the benefit of the court she was powdered and wore a lovely blue gown. The contrast between the perfumed lady and the beaten disfigured Lord below her was striking.

"The first bounty of Lord Arryn's victorious campaign arrives. You shall remain here for the remainder of the war Lannister, and pay recompense for your crimes against the realm." Lady Arryn's voice reverberated across the hall for everyone in attendance to hear.

Lucien knew she was formally of House Corbray and not much else. It was an old, but poor house. The marriage with Jon Arryn had greatly elevated the House in terms of prestige.

 _She should thank me that I foiled Jon Arryn's attempt to wed Lysa. At most she would be under some low-level knight right now if not for me. You would not be able to even touch that lovely gown if not for my very existence. I believe you owe me a debt Lady Arryn. You should send your finest food and best wine to me along with a ship to Kings Landing._

When Lucien had attempted to betroth his daughter Philippa to Robert Arryn, his fruitless negotiations had been with Jon Arryn. Lady Arryn had been with her husband in Kings Landing from time to time, but she was of little note. She did not make an impact in Kings Landing as other ladies of the court did. Cersei had described her as 'boring' and having a 'scrambled, erratic mind'.

"The miscarriages have gone to her head, the women is simply off center. Who knows what is crawling around in that head of hers? Betroth your girl to her spawn if you want, but spending more than a fortnight near the dumb bitch will drive your girl mad and she will be begging to be returned to Casterly Rock." Cersei had told him in the past. He had not bothered to validate those assertions, there were more pressing matters on his mind at that time then investigating a crazed woman. Plotting the death of Cersei's husband had been the forefront of his attention.

 _I wonder what she would have done if I had told her about the plot. Help me most likely. Give me a kiss perhaps….Perhaps she would have offered more._

The thought caused him to think about Cersei and Jaime together and he quickly dispelled the thought from his mind.

He turned his eyes towards the throne, and for a moment he saw Lysa seated in the chair instead.

 _How close was she to becoming the Lady of the Vale before I rode into Riverrun with a false smile? Jon Arryn's seed may not have had the strength at his age. Would she have the same reputation as this woman now? Would she be scorned and mocked by everyone she met? Would she have failed to bear a living child, and be known as the women who had failed to further Jon Arryn's line?_

It was a line of thought that was uncomfortable, and it reminded him of the uncertain welcome he would receive from Lysa if he lived to see her again. Would she stare him down much the same way after he had set her father's lands on fire, ordered the murder of peasants in those lands, and imprisoned her brother? Would she believe him that her father had died on his own?

 _One issue at a time. She may hate me, so be it. I shall fight for her all the same._

His mind must have been occupied for a period of time, because Lady Arryn began to speak with impatience. "Will you remain mute Lannister? Has my son stolen your tongue along with your pride? Has he whipped you into submission? Or is this a vein attempt at stubbornness? Afraid of your own voice? I expected a man to come before me today, not a craven."

He heard members of the court snicker behind him. Let them. Let the woman play to the biased crowd.

"You have had a long climb last night, and your legs must surely ache. You shall stand until you cooperate."

 _Let us get this farce over with then if she is so intent on it._

"What crimes have I committed Lady Arryn?" He asked, fully expecting to be accused of putting an incestuous bastard on the Iron Throne.

He wanted to say that it was the Vale and everyone in attendance who had committed treason by defying the Iron Throne, but he held his tongue. Joffrey's parentage made that argument disingenuous at best. Even if it was true, those words would not aid him in the slightest.

"How dare you play ignorant here Lannister! You and your family murdered the beloved Lord Jon Arryn. You shall find no friends here, murderer. The gods are good that they have cursed you with an appearance that is a true representation of who you really are."

 _What!_ Lucien blinked, completely taken aback by the sudden accusation. He had expected a verbal lashing and condescending remarks. He did not expect false accusations. He looked around behind him at the audience. All of them, many of whom served the late Jon Arryn, stared back with pure loathing. Previously, Lucien had considered highlighting his torture in order to sow uncertainty and division amongst the group. That was out of the question, he would get no sympathy here no matter how grievous his mistreatment. Even honorable men could find themselves tolerating the suffering of their enemies.

"You are right about one thing my Lady. I am a murderer. I have been since I was a boy. In my youth I had a boy who disrespected my dwarf brother thrown off the cliffs of Casterly Rock. I have put many to the sword, innocent or otherwise. Many have reason to be wroth with me. But I should be condemned by them, not you. I tell you this, Jon Arryn was not among my victims. He was a positive influence on the realm and a fair man. I never did him any ill."

"Your words are as empty as your future, murderer. Your imprisonment is too good for you, but my son is just and has decided to spare your life for the time being." She addressed the audience behind Lucien. "May this evil man languish in his sins, and be an ever present reminder of the end of the despicable reign of his family. He will see justice after the whore queen and her bastards are deposed and shammed. A quick execution is not sufficient for those of their ilk."

The crowd ate up her words hungrily, the room was deafening with their condemnations and threats. "Your evidence? How can you prove this guilt of mine?" Lucien asked. His response was disregarded and the room got even louder. Lady Arryn held a satisfied look as she stared down at him.

 _Sheep, mindless sycophants, and fools._ He thought. Then he noticed that Lady Arryn kept looking in a particular direction. Lucien filtered the entire court out of his vision to find where she kept looking. When he did he finally saw the man he had been looking for.

Lord Baelish wore lavish clothing and did not look a captive in the slightest. The silver mockingbird that held the clasp of his cloak was pronounced. He wore a smile when Lucien met his eye. Lucien had seen more than enough of Littlefinger's smiles in his lifetime, but the look that Littlefinger gave him now was not pure mockery. It was meant to catch Lucien's attention. It was an invitation. Lucien turned his focus on Lady Arryn. The satisfied look on her face was still mockingly present. But she did not focus completely on Lucien, she kept looking at Baelish.

The look on her face showed clear as day that she was quite fond of Littlefinger.

Lucien's mind raced as he thought up a strategy for the coming days. Several revelations clicked into place.

 _And who are you the proud Lord said, that I must bow so low?_

He smiled. The change from pride to revulsion on Lady Arryn's face was satisfying.

"I will not bother to plead my case, it is clear you have convinced yourself and closed your mind. Sense ceases to exist past the Bloody Gate. Not once did your son mention the fact that I supposedly killed his father as he tortured me. A prisoner of war. Perhaps it slipped his mind, he is quite dim." _Absolutely disgraceful! Is this what the Vale of Arryn has become? All of you are a disgrace to Jon Arryn's memory!"_

Lady Arryn started sputtering uncontrollably in rage. Lucien did not listen to any of it but she went on for quite a while, to the point that even the angriest member of the court became uncomfortable.

"Worm! Beast! You dare speak ill of the just! You are not fit to taste the bottom of my son's boots. You will suffer! You will rot! You will know…

He let her vent. As much as he would have liked to vent as well it would do him absolutely no good. Besides, he deserved some punishment for his past he supposed. But, he would rather face the consequences of his sins then be blamed for things he had not done. Maybe Cersei had killed Jon Arryn, it was possible, and he was guilty by association in the court's eyes.

Perhaps she eventually tired herself out, because he was roughly taken out of the hall. On his way out he saw Baelish again with the face that presented the open invitation.

He was not going to get anything out of anyone else in the Eyrie's court. They could all go to the seventh hell. That madwomen and all those who blindly followed her fictions. Fictions that were very convenient for her.

 _Hell, maybe she killed Jon Arryn. His death greatly helped the man you keep staring at._

Lucien would persevere to protect his family, and it was clear he had only one avenue to do so. Perhaps Gerrion could take the Arryn Lord hostage and exchange him for Lucien's freedom. That was not ideal at all. Lucien would not kill needlessly, his plan to unite the seven kingdoms after the war would be delicately carried out in order to prevent further unrest. But Robert Arryn needed to die, his survival would be unacceptable and it was clear the Vale was in dire need of new leadership. Besides, if he was exchanged the war would already be over and Lucien would have been of no use to anyone.

It would not be easy, but he could play the game of thrones one more time and dance to Littlefinger's tune.

Baelish was not stupid, and if it was in Baelish's interest, Lucien could pry what he needed from the man. Lucien could not completely understand Baelish, but it was clear he was a practical man. If Lucien remained imprisoned, Lord Tywin would blame Baelish for this failure. Baelish did not bet on losing causes and he stood to lose much at the moment if the Lannisters won this war. Lucien would see Baelish dead anyway, but there was nothing that could have tipped the man off to that plot.

Lucien was not stupid, he did not let on how much he hated and feared the Master of Coin. Lucien was placing his bet that Baelish would play both sides so that he would stand to gain no matter who won the war. Giving Lord Tywin back his golden son would be the perfect opportunity to get into the Lannister's good graces and manipulate both sides of the war. Like a child who crashed to of his toys together, and then walked away when both participants lay broken.

 _I will not be played. Do not pull the Lion's tail. I will not rest until I break you Baelish. You have made a grave mistake in this web you have spun. I never would have paid you this much mind initially if those rumors about you and my wife did not exist. Play your games, one snap of the jaws and you will be finished. I will not be gentle._

Of course, he could not allow Baelish to know what he was starting to piece together. If he suspected that Lucien would be a danger to him, then Baelish would never allow him to leave the Eyrie.

So Lucien would have to swallow his pride and play dumb. He would have to pretend to be manipulated.

He would have to pretend that he did not suspect that Baelish was the basis for leading the Vale to the rebels' side in the war, conceal that he had begun discovering the extent of Baelish's financial manipulation, and pretend he did not know that Baelish met with Catelyn and Ned Stark in Kings Landing. He would have to guard the observation that Lady Arryn was signaling Baelish out and that Robert Arryn resembled Petyr Baelish more so than Jon Arryn.

Getting out of the Eyrie would be difficult, killing Baelish afterwards would be even harder. It would be difficult to reach him, and Lucien believed Baelish had every intention to stay in the Vale and increase his influence here. But Lucien could feel in the very depth of his soul that he would succeed. He had a chance to get out of the Eyrie and fight for his family's future.

If he was wrong, he was dead.

Lucien prided himself on his patience, but he could not wait to talk with Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish and learn his own fate. One way or another.

He did not need to fret over the meeting, Lucien played his part perfectly. His tortured exterior posed the opportunity to portray himself as not mentally competent. He let Baelish spin a verbal web around him and pretended to be unaware.

It was difficult to be clever, but Lucien found it easy to act a fool. In doing so, he escaped one of the cleverest men in all the seven kingdoms. He had not destroyed Littlefinger like he wished to, but he had escaped him. That was more than enough.

Later that night, Littlefinger wrote the letter to Lord Tywin that insured that Lucien's desires would become a reality.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Next Chapter POVs are planned to be Lysa, Tyrion, and Catelyn**

 **Unless the chapter runs too long, then it may be divided into two chapters.**

 **It has been awhile since there has been a chapter on Catelyn, so I would like to get that released. This story has grown beyond what I had originally envisioned and with multiple points of view it is difficult to write them all in a timely manner.**

 **Hopefully the Littlefinger aspect of the chapter came off well. I want to portray these characters as realistically as possible. I wanted it to be plausible that Lucien could get away without diminishing Littlefinger. So I framed the situation that releasing Lucien would appear in Littlefinger's best interest.**

 **Because Sansa is in the North and Lysa is in the West for this story the butterfly effect caused alterations to Littlefinger's plotting. He is setting himself as the true power in the Vale while secretly showing military support to the Starks, while also portraying himself as taking over power in the Vale in the interest of the Crown for the Lannisters while returning Tywin's prize son. He would likely completely get away with this if Lucien hadn't narrowed his suspicions on him after hearing rumors regarding Lysa back in Kings Landing. Even so, Lucien cannot really do anything to him anyway for the time being.**

 **I have been rereading the books (Hopefully when I finish reading the books, 'The Winds of Winter' will be released). Baelish is one of my favorite characters to read about in the books because he is so devilishly clever.**

 **Because I am not even remotely in the same stratosphere of cleverness as George Martin, writing about Baelish myself was very difficult and hopefully it all came out acceptably.**


	22. Catelyn V Tyrion II

**Catelyn**

She had not burned the letter, not for several agonizing months. Yet now she clenched it in her fist. She had grown gaunter ever since Ned and Robb had ridden off to war. She had eaten less, and it was difficult to move with any grace or peace of mind. Even so, her fingers crushed the parchment in an ironclad grip.

She had wanted to burn the damned thing as soon as she read it. The horrid threats that Lucien Lannister had sent her had been cruel, and worst of all, memorable. The man must have been assured of his success, because he never would have sent such threats to her if he thought it was possible he would be imprisoned.

 _Lucien Lannister fancies himself clever. He must be if he defeated my father and brother so quickly. Yet his arrogance has savaged him._

For reasons she could not fully explain, she had read that letter every night. Instead of her husband lying beside her in bed, the letter had resided in the bedchamber in his place. Every condescending word was memorized, and Catelyn could have recited it if need be. Perhaps it was subconscious guilt on her part of not being able to stop this coming war. Perhaps it was her duty to remember this grief regularly.

No more.

Catelyn had no memory of falling asleep the night the letter arrived, which was passing queer. A nightmare had afflicted her that night, and it had been vivid. Most dreams were clearly false, and could be mocked for their lack of logic after the fact.

Not this one.

It was as if she had been back in Riverrun it had seemed so true. How many times had she been in her father's solar? Every detail in the chamber was perfect, and her father lay in anguish as his defenses and levies crumbled around him. She could hear the Lannister men coming for him, chaos within the castle itself that had once been her home. Both Lord Hoster's men and his very mind collapsed, and Catelyn would have wept had she been able in the dream.

Then she saw the despicable worm of a man enter the solar, he was adorned in fabulous golden armor with a pair of golden lionesses perched on his shoulders. The armor was so bright it had almost blinded her. As her brother in law passed by, blood leaked out of her father's eyes. Lannister had dabbed a quill on her father's bloody tears and used it to pen the letter that she had read the night before.

The man then had knelt down at her father's bedside. The act appeared to be quite respectful on the surface. Like a son giving respect to an aged father. That was why it felt so sinister. The chalice he held to her father's lips was immaculate and studded with jewels.

"Drink my Lord. Drink and sleep." Lannister said.

Hoster Tully drank feebly, as helpless as a newborn. When the last of the liquid had gone down his throat, Hoster spoke softly and he grew even fainter the longer he spoke.

"Lysa…wish she could come…wish we could speak…to make right…never meant to…could not afford a bastard…must see that…the Lannister boy…does right by her." Her father said while slowly fading away from the world, he clearly had no clue that he was talking to Lysa's husband or that nearly two decades had passed since Lucien Lannister could have been considered a boy.

"I have every confidence the boy will be up to the task. Do not fear my Lord, your daughter shall live a happy life worthy of a song." Lannister responded. His face twisted in a sneer, and within Catelyn burned an anger that seemed inhuman. A raging inferno that demanded her brother-in-law suffer. Not only in this life, but the one after. If the gods were just, surely this man could not go unpunished.

"Lysa sends her love." Lannister all but spat, and with that, Hoster Tully turned to ash.

Riverrun began to crumble around her. Screams pierced her senses, if they were her own screams or another's she could not say. Her entire childhood home came apart. The tree that Edmure had fallen from as a boy was uprooted, the yard where Petyr had fought Brandon Stark ceased to be. The ramparts on which Catelyn had stood vigil in order to watch for her father when he was away were as clear as if Catelyn stood there herself. Then those same ramparts collapsed and she fell along with it into the river which was stained with the blood of the Tully's sworn men.

She sank further down and could only look up helplessly at the surface as she sank deeper than the river should have been. As she sank she saw her brother Edmure's corpse, her Uncle the Blackfish's corpse as well, and among them hundreds of men, servants, and even common folk who pledged themselves to House Tully. Like her ancestors before her, she seemed to find her resting place beneath the river's waves until she had at last awoken with a scream.

It was as ill an omen as one could imagine after reading such a traumatic letter, and it felt so real! It must not have been any ordinary dream. Surely the gods had sent this experience to torment her. It was sent so that she would suffer after failing in her duty and allowing Ned to be coerced by Stannis Baratheon into his war for the Iron Throne.

The gods were beings of cruelty and they had sent her to her knees and had shaken her very soul. Yet now she needed strength and she would find it. The gods had sent her to her knees, yet while she lay in agony they now granted her prayers and extended a hand to help her up again.

They had answered her prayers of vengeance. Lucien Lannister was not dead as she had prayed for. He deserved the death that he had given to her father. The man would answer for the deaths of the men, women, and children of House Harlaw at the end of the Greyjoy Rebellions as well as the peasants that he had butchered in order to lure Edmure from the safety of Riverrun. His debt would not be fulfilled until he was a feast for the crows. When the flesh was torn from his face, his eyes eaten away, and his guts filled with worms. Only then would Lucien Lannister have earned his fate. He still lived, yet his humiliation was enough at the present. Her family's preservation was more important than removing monsters from the world.

She was no maid destined to weep for the remainder of her days. She was no craven that grew weak at the knees when battle came near. Grief for her father and Edmure would not help them. She had to move forward with the family that she could protect, and pray that the gods would deign themselves to protect those that she could not.

A dozen bastards could not have extinguished the love she held for Ned Stark, and she would always hold special attachment to her firstborn, the babe at her breast with wisps of auburn hair that had been born in Riverrun.

Catelyn threw Lucien Lannister's letter into the hearth and watched the flames lick at his now empty threats. His grip on her heart was over. The fear that the man would wring his bloody hands around Ned and Robb's necks, and then turn his cruel sights on Winterfell, Sansa, Arya, Rickon, and her sweet broken Bran were over. Lucien Lannister had threatened all that was most dear to her, and now those threats were becoming impotent.

In fact, all he threatened to Catelyn may very well fall upon his own head. The Lannisters had been set up for complete disaster. If the trend of the war continued; Lord Lucien, Lord Tywin, the Queen, the Kingslayer, and the Imp would all have their heads on spikes within the year.

 _And Lysa…they will not touch Lysa. Ned would never allow it. The daughters would come to no harm either. The girls would be taken as hostages surely… yet Lysa's son may not be fortunate….Perhaps he would be allowed to bend the knee. Or even given the mercy of being sent to the Night's Watch. He was an excellent sword fighter, and Ned says the Watch is in dire need of skilled men._

Catelyn remembered Lysa's young son when he had been at Winterfell. A boy of twelve at the time, yet he had carried himself like a full grown man and bested Theon Greyjoy with ease despite being five years the junior. Gerrion had dripped with the arrogance that was customary to the Lannisters. The arrogance that had ruined his father.

She could see Gerrion Lannister fighting Robb in Winterfell's practice yard in her mind. Yet she imagined both boys gaining several inches since their last encounter. The practice swords were replaced with steel and Lannister's sword was golden, as was his armor which would have put the best armor of the rest of the realm to shame. He wore a helm in the fashion of a roaring lion. By contrast her son had a look worthy of the ancient Kings of Winter, with his massive direwolf Grey Wind snarling at his heels. It was a far cry from the sparring of two young cousins with blunted swords, with nothing had been at risk but pride and bruises.

Now the blades cut deep, she had wept when Ned had written her that Robb had lost his sword arm. Her precious boy was no longer whole.

Perhaps Gerrion Lannister would follow in his father and grandfather's footsteps in every way. Yet Catelyn hoped that the boy would survive this madness, for Lysa's sake.

 _I want to believe that Lysa has nothing to do with her husband's war. That she still holds a family bond to myself and Riverrun. That she is a victim of cruel fate, and that she simply wishes her son to return to her. Just as I hope the same for my own child._

Ned had written her that Theon Greyjoy was dead. She had never liked the boy, yet she mourned his death all the same. He and Robb had been close, and however much she disapproved of the relationship the boy had not deserved death. Theon's death would have hit Robb hard.

Theon had been a hostage to keep Balon Greyjoy in check. Now with Theon's death, it was likely the Iron Born would take the opportunity to profit off of the war.

The entire Kingdom of the North was on high alert for an invasion from the Iron Isles. If they were fortunate, Greyjoy would seek other targets.

"The Iron Born have every reason to despise Casterly Rock, the killing of an heir would tip even a cautious Lord into War, and Balon Greyjoy is far from timid. He began a Rebellion with much lower odds in his favor. With the Lannisters in disarray, the Western coast is ripe for the plucking." Catelyn had told Maester Luwin as they had mused of the impact of Theon's death.

The Iron Born were ruthless, yet if they assaulted the Westerlands it would help Ned in his war. At the same time, many men, women, and children were at risk of dying if these raids commenced.

Winterfell had been quiet of late, the entire populace seemed nearly paralyzed with tension. No one spoke of it, but it could be tangibly felt. Many had family members fighting in the South, and everyone knew someone who would never be returning to Winterfell alive.

Yet now the halls of Winterfell had come alive. It had been a costly victory, but an impending defeat had been revealed to be a triumph. Lord Lucien's army had been scattered at the Trident and the Lord Stark had brought about an essential victory.

 _Petyr kept his word._ Catelyn mused. _He bestirred Lord Arryn when Ned needed him most._

She supped with her children later that evening, and the Great Hall was close to full with the servants, women, young boys, and old men that did not march with the Northern Army. It came no where close to matching the feast when Lucien Lannister had come to Winterfell three years ago, or King Robert's arrival two years afterward. It could hardly be called a feast. There was no time to prepare and the food was nowhere near as rich as those feasts. Yet there was an energy here that was lacking in previous endeavors.

"They have had little to hope for these last months." Catelyn had told Maester Luwin. "We all need a healthy outlet when a glimmer of light creeps over the long depressing darkness."

The Lannister forces had been winning early on, and Lucien Lannister checked Ned's movements at every turn. The early part of the war had evolved into a darkness at the bottom of a great pit, and now Catelyn felt the North was slowly climbing their way out.

Those attending took full advantage of the available outlet. Those assembled drank and ate with excitement. They gave regular toasts to Lord Eddard Stark and the 'Young Wolf' Robb Stark. They honored their fathers and sons who had been on the battlefield and told wild stories of Robb Stark's direwolf that Catelyn wouldn't have believed if she had not seen how fearsome they had grown for herself.

 _How many men who had feasted here under the Lannister banner had died on the Trident? Those dead men had feasted, jested, and danced with the same men who would later revel in their deaths._

Her children specifically needed reason to smile, and out of all of them Arya was most excited.

"I've heard Robb rode into battle on the back of Grey Wind." She exclaimed. "And together they rode down a hundred men. When Lannister saw the wolf, he got down onto his knees in fright."

"I heard different." Catelyn heard Jeyne Pool whisper to Sansa. "I heard the wolf tore Lord Lannister's arm off."

 _I wish that had been what happened. A different arm was lost._

"Men spin tall tales Arya. Don't believe all you hear." Catelyn responded.

Arya turned to her mother. "The other wolves should go, if they had, then Father and Robb would be back by now."

Catelyn shook her head. "They would never leave Bran and Rickon, would you have your brothers leave as well?"

Rickon overheard and was excited. "Shaggy and I go! Shaggy and I go! I'm four! I go!"

The direwolves had been growing too large and had been confined to the godswood. Rickon's wolf Shaggydog had bitten two people and had grown as wild as the young boy was becoming. Catelyn found she had her hands full containing Rickon's rowdiness. Ned had told her that some Stark's had the 'wolf's blood'.

 _Rickon must have it, and Arya as well._

Catelyn could see Arya biting back the words that she had wanted to say out loud.

 _If it wasn't for the stupid prince I would have Nymeria. Then I could ride into battle on her with Robb and Father._

Saying that would have opened up an old would with Sansa, and Arya was growing mature enough to keep this grievance internal for both their sakes.

Rickon began to fuss and bang his fists on the table and Sansa, who was seated near him, scooped him up in her arms and began to calm him.

Sansa had taken to mothering Rickon of late, and it was a sign of growing maturity. She was natural with her young brother and seemed to be the only one who could properly calm him quickly. Even Catleyn could not wrangle him as easily.

Sansa no longer feuded with Arya openly and the outbursts between the two had ceased. Any conflict between them was unspoken. While Catelyn should have been thrilled, any relief was quickly stifled.

Sansa spent less and less time with her friends Jeyne Pool and Beth Cassel. A smile was rare, and her eyes were heavy.

When Ned had gone to war, Sansa had gone to Catelyn and wept.

"My Prince…Joff…he cannot be a…a…there must be some mistake!" Tears had covered her face and she buried herself in her mother's hair.

"Make father see reason mother, make him come home! He cannot fight Joff. He cannot fight Philippa's father, he simply cannot!"

Catelyn held her tight and whispered. "Your father is keeping you safe, that is more important than any crown you would have had as queen. We will find a good man for you Sansa, I promise."

"And Philippa?" Sansa asked between sobs. "What of her, will I see her again?"

"She will come to no harm I promise you."

Sansa now sat beside Catelyn today with a forlorn expression, though she masked it at the moment while calming Rickon. She ate just enough to be polite, but it was clear her heart was not in it. The lemon cakes she used to love immensely had been picked at slowly. After she ate one, she did not touch another. The gossip she used to love with her friends was carried on without much enthusiasm. She was trying to keep up appearances, but it was a transparent veil.

This was starting to progress beyond the disappointment at losing the chance at a crown. This was a growing depression that was all too real.

A girl that young should not be so heavily burdened. To see her own daughter this way stabbed Catelyn in the heart more painfully than any real dagger could.

 _Better she be shocked then in the King's grip. I will do all I can to see her laugh again someday. She would never have had a chance to do so had she been confined in Kings Landing surrounded by Lannisters._

"Bran." Sansa said after sitting Rickon down after his excitement had passed. "Are you alright, you haven't said a word all evening."

Catelyn looked over and saw her sweet crippled son sitting silently and looking forward over his plate.

"I dreamed again. It's calling me, telling me to fly." He looked over at his family. "I'm just not hungry."

Bran had changed mentally as well as physically ever since he had fallen from the tower. Ever since Jaime and Cersei Lannister had pushed him. He confided that he dreamed of falling and a crow with three eyes was always telling him to fly.

"I've told you not to fret Bran. Dreams will pass with time."

Bran shook his head. "Not these. They are vivid, they are real. I just know. It called me down to the crypt last night. Father and Robb were down there and we talked. Robb's right hand was missing and the both of them were quite sad."

Catelyn felt the breath leave her. She had not told the children that Robb had been maimed.

"Where else does it call you Bran? Where else does it want you to go?" Catelyn asked with growing fear and uncertainty.

Bran looked up at her. "I don't know, but it is not here."

"Ignore it Bran." Arya said. "You belong here, no crow is going to take you anywhere."

* * *

 **Tyrion**

He rolled out of the bed without a sound. He was wide awake, and he had been unable to sleep at all. The young girl that shared his bed remained fast asleep and he left her behind to her slumber. She could not be described as pretty, she was a common looking girl.

His brother Lucien had forbidden him from bedding whores in Casterly Rock.

"If you must bed whores do not do it here in your own bed." Lord Lucien had told him when he had first taken over Lordship of Casterly Rock.

On the surface she did not appear to be a whore, but rather a common servant girl from the kitchens. The girl supposedly shared his bed willingly.

 _It's a lie, who would ever wish to be bedded by me without receiving any reward?_

She was paid by Lysa to keep an eye on him, he was certain of it. That made him angry, he had bad experiences with family members arranging girls to be bedded by him.

Yet he still lay with her. Why? He could not quite place it. Perhaps he needed to lay with a women before he potentially died, even if it was not genuine. Even before the Greyjoy fleet had entered Lannister waters, Tyrion had worked tirelessly for his brother. It was a curse that Lucien had discovered how clever he was, because he overworked him trying to put that intelligence to good use. It caused severe stress and when Lucien had ridden off to war, Tyrion's responsibilities had not diminished. If anything they seemed to increase tenfold.

He groaned under his breath thinking of his brother.

 _You look down on me all my life. Now the one time I need you Lucien and you fuck it up. The rebels will all be marching to put all our heads on spikes. Stannis Baratheon is not a man to forgive, and no matter how small I am, I will not be able to escape his gaze._

Lord Tywin had seemed to rule eternal these last decades, but now it appeared that his grip on the seven kingdoms could come to an abrupt end. Tyrion had dreamed frequently as a child of his father and sister dying painfully. That may become a reality. But, no matter how sweet that would be he was quite fond of his own head and he had no intention of having his skewered on a spike next to theirs.

He waddled over to the basin of water to wash his face and stared at his deformed reflection in the mirror.

 _The face that will strike terror into the Iron Born. Lady Lysa this is such folly._

He entered the Great Hall, probably for the last time.

That morning the Lady Lysa was dressed richly. Most days she was not dressed half so well. An immaculate crimson gown that was studded with jewels of varied colors. Around her neck she wore a jeweled necklace that had belonged to his mother Joanna. The value of that amount of finery would have been enough to bankrupt lesser lords.

If she was distressed about the coming events she hid it well. Beside her, Lady Margery was seated and the two were speaking cordially. Margery was heavy with child, yet it did not dampen her encouraging demeanor. Her smile could endear anyone to her and she was as perfect a lady as one could imagine.

And she was cleaver. Tyrion wondered not for the first time if Lady Lysa felt threatened having such a Lady wed to her son.

 _She has more pressing concerns at the moment. Such as if she will have a son when this war is over._

'Growing strong' were the words of Margery's House. Based on the degree of which she was beloved, Tyrion knew Lady Margery would be growing stronger in power and influence with every passing year. That is, if Casterly Rock did not fall and they were all put to the sword.

Margery smiled as he approached.

"Good morning Lord Tyrion. Eat well my Lord, and gather your strength for the coming days."

Tyrion adopted his usual joking appearance. "I mean to take only a bite or two. Too much and I'll retch it up mid-battle. Then again, if I gorge myself my foe may slip in it."

Margery laughed while placing a hand on her pregnant belly. "I'm told a child born in the wake of a great victory is an omen for the child's future. I shall sing to the babe of Lord Tyrion's great bravery."

"I hope to live to hear these stories." Smiling he moved to take his usual seat.

"Not there Lord Tyrion. Here. You are Lannisport's champion. Sit here by my side." Lysa spoke and then gestured to the seat next to her.

It was empty, as it was the Lord's seat. Where his father had sat and his brother after him. It was from that seat that his father had looked down on him with contempt whenever he had entered the hall. That seat was always taken by someone he despised.

The varied conversations at the table ceased as everyone began to watch him. Their curiosity was apparent. Why would Lysa let Tyrion sit her husband's seat?

He smiled and bowed. "I would be honored to sit beside you my Lady. But I am not worthy of the honor."

"You are." Lysa said with a voice as sweet as honey. She beckoned again towards the Lord's chair. "Sit, Lord Tyrion."

 _What in the seven hells? Lucien will be wroth with you if he ever finds out._

He approached Lysa and seated himself at her side. The food in front of him made his mouth water, nervous or not he was going to eat like it was his last day.

He made her wait, eating whatever he liked. Fish, bacon, and bread dipped in honey. Then he leaned over and spoke softly so that only Lysa could possibly hear him.

"What is your game?"

Lysa finished her conversation with Margery and then used her eyes to motion to her daughter Philippa. Philippa frowned, but then smiled and proceeded to engage Margery in conversation and held her there for quite a while. One thing that could be said about his niece is that she was quite gregarious.

Lysa gave him her full attention. She spoke with confidence, more so than Tyrion had ever heard from her before "I play no games my Lord, this is charity straight from the heart."

"I do not need your charity. Nor did I need the girl you put in my bed."

Lysa smiled. "Smart man. I knew you would figure it out. We need attentive smart men now more than ever during this crisis. That was for your peace of mind."

 _Liar_ Tyrion thought.

"A man has his needs. Even half a man, and it seems you have twice the appetite in that regard. I am not my husband, you may have your pleasantries. I was ordered by my Lord Husband to keep a close eye on you. He never specified how I should do so, so I arranged some pleasure for you as a bonus. I stopped paying her after she could not provide me any more information about you, yet she has still gone to bed with you for a fortnight with no pay. The girl may care for you more than you think. She wept when she heard you were to be leaving."

Tyrion had noticed that the girl had seemed different the night before. Could it be...no...no one could love the Imp. It was due time him accepted that fact.

"She was distraught because a source of income was leaving her forever. I do not wield a steel sword as well as the sword between my legs." Tyrion snarled, he said it quietly so the sound would not carry. He took a savage bit out of a strip of bacon and grease ran down his chin. In that moment he must have looked a savage next to the immaculately dressed Lady beside him. "Fuck your pity."

He had been suckered once already by being set up with a women who supposedly lay with him willingly. Intentions were different, but the situation was too similar to Jaime's little scheme when Tyrion was thirteen. He did not know if Lucien even knew about Tysha and the punishment the Lord Tywin had inflicted on Tyrion afterwards. If he did he certainly would not have told his wife about family strife. So Lysa was ignorant of just how badly this mirrored Tyrion's past. Nevertheless he still burned with anger.

Lysa was not unnerved by this hostility. "Nothing of the sort I assure you. Your family has mistreated you, you are due a debt do you not agree? A bit of recognition. Do not lie, you crave it as would any man. When the enemy hosts in the east are defeated, imagine the look on your father's face when he learns you saved Lannisport."

"As sweet as that would be I doubt I will be able to savor the taste. You sound so sure of victory, as I see it my death is more likely."

Lysa shook her head. "Have faith. I despaired at first when I saw the Kraken on the waves, but then I opened my eyes. Five thousand men are ready and the trap is set. It will be tonight. The greedy Iron Born will be all too eager to rush into our jaws and our men need a Lannister to lead them. The men need their liege's family to be present in order to be inspired. The Iron Born must not survive to put Lannisport to the torch. If we stay and do nothing, our fleet will break and thousands of men women and children will die."

 _That does not explain why I am seated on my father's seat. You are trying to feed my ego. You want to buy my support, and now you are trying to save face after I discovered your little spy._

Tyrion said aloud "That was an unnecessary show you just put on for your court. A dwarf seated on the Lord's seat, my father would vomit at the thought. This is pity for a dead man."

"No" said Lysa as she put her dainty arm on top of his. It was cold and it sent a chill through him. On her hand was a ring with a diamond the size of a pigeon's egg that Lucien had bought for her on her thirtieth name day. "This is the beginning of a great man. 'The Imp of Casterly Rock' will no longer be an insult, and when my husband or son returns I will see you are paid back generously for your valor."

 _Husband or son? You are not deluded, perhaps you have even accepted that Lucien is finished. I will admit, you put up a strong face while your husband and son's lives hang in the balance._

"Pretty words. But only words, I have battle before me. If I die, weep for me."

"I shall if the need arises." Lysa said as Tyrion rose to his feet. He sucked honey off his fingers one by one as he moved around the table towards the exit. Towards Lannisport and towards his fate.

"Uncle." He heard Philippa call out.

He stopped. He may be angry at her mother and father, but he could not deny her. She was such a kind girl, and had always treated him with affection.

Philippa came up to him, got down onto her knees, and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Be well, I have prayed day and night for the gods to return you from these heathen barbarians."

Tyrion saw a small tear begin to well in her eyes and gave her an assuring smile. "They are a fearsome lot, those barbarians, but they have not met a lion as fearsome as I."

Philippa returned the smile, though she seemed quite sad. It was the most melancholy smile Tyrion had ever seen.

 _She knows as much as I that I am going to die._

Tyrion supposed that in a morbid way, it was comforting to know that if some warrior split open his skull that one person would shed genuine tears.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **I had mentioned in the previous chapter that Lysa would be a POV this chapter. I intended to do so, but the chapter ran long and I incorporated her content into the Tyrion POV.**

 **I have three POVs coming up and they will probably need an entire chapter dedicated to each of them. If you happen to have a preference which POV you would like to see first, let me know in a PM or review.**

 **The upcoming chapters are:**

 **Tyrion**

 **Gerrion**

 **Lucien**

 **Thank you, hope you enjoyed the chapter**


	23. Gerrion V

**Gerrion**

A torrent of sweat dripped down his face and left a bitter taste on his lips. At long last his mount slowed from a full gallop to a trot and finally a halt. His squire, a young thirteen year old distant relative, hurried to help his Lord dismount. It was an easy task, the horse was even more exhausted than its rider was. Time was of the essence and the Lannister host had ridden hard for several days. It was a well-bred mount, but carrying a man in full cumbersome plate had well and truly expired its strength this day.

They had passed the southern branch of the Red Fork, and now Gerrion and his host of ten thousand men were coming closer and closer to the Golden Tooth, the gateway to the Westerlands. Where his mother, sisters, wife, and unborn child were secured in Casterly Rock. But under no such protection were the common people. The men who swore his father, and by extension himself, fealty. The innocent that he had sworn to defend as a Lord and a knight.

Another Lannister army had been assembled by Ser Stafford Lannister, but it was not the best crop of men. In fact they could hardly be called men, it mostly consisted of boys considered too young to ride to war when it began nearly a year ago. His family did not consider Ser Stafford Lannister much better than his inexperienced subordinates. Jaime had called him 'Uncle Dolt'. Even so, Gerrion had wanted Stafford garrisoned at the Golden Tooth to join the sentries that were already there. A good defensive position. Then if the Vale army of fifteen thousand men had been foolish enough to try to batter their way through the Golden Tooth, Gerrion and his men would take them in the rear.

The damned Ironborn had shot that plan to the seven hells. The assault on the Lannister naval fleet threatened Lannisport itself. If Ser Stafford had maintained his position, he would have returned with Gerrion to a sacked and razed Lannisport. The great House Lannister would have been unable to protect its own great city. That disgrace was far from the political and economic dominance Tywin Lannister had planned before the war.

As he walked briskly where his troops were to settle in for the night, men all around him began pitching tents. He joined the group of them that were preparing his personal tent. A tent with more space than most commoner's homes. When he began aiding the servants in raising the massive pavilion, he had never seen anyone as shocked as they were that the acting Lord of House Lannister was helping them.

 _Anything I can do to busy my mind. To put off what I will have to do. Common labor is a small price to pay for a calmed mind._

Unfortunately, no matter how busy he was, his mind still festered with fears and doubts. Of what awaited him at the Golden Tooth and beyond. He could hear his father's voice whispering in his ear.

 _'You are a warrior Gerrion. This is what you were born to do. Avenge my failings. Butcher these sons of bitches of the Vale, butcher the Iron Born like the dogs they are, then get back to Kings Landing before we lose the crown and all our power.'_

He had been at his father's side when the plan to take Riverrun was formed nearly nine months ago. Edmure Tully had taken his host into a vulnerable position in response to Lord Lucien's provocation. Farms and villages had been put to the torch. Ser Amory Lorch had been unleashed and common folk were murdered without a hint of mercy. It was all that was required to draw Edmure Tully's army out from beyond Riverrun and towards their defeat.

"Edmure has always been weak, unwilling to do what is necessary. Sentimentality will damn the man. He will sacrifice his army and his family for lice-ridden peasants, drunkards, rapists, and scoundrels." Lucien had said of Edmure, his own brother in law on the eve of seizing Riverrun. His voice had been full of scorn.

Gerrion had answered "I never saw my Uncle as having the makings of a traitor. Nor have his peasants plotted to depose Joffrey, why punish the innocent?"

"I never saw Edmure as much of anything. Treason is treason, and if Edmure Tully truly loved his lands he would have convinced Lord Hoster against aiding this rebellion. Brother to your mother means little, he will pay the consequences, Lord Hoster more so. Their defeat is imminent, their lands are in my hands. For now his soldiers stay in Riverrun like a festering pimple. I will squeeze his villages until he pops out. Then the Tully forces will be discarded far before the Stark traitor arrives" Lord Lucien had spoken with cold confidence and everything he said had come to pass just as he had said.

Gerrion had grown bold. "You did not answer me father. If you squeeze, it will be the blood of men, women, and children that will come out, Father. If you plan to control Riverrun after the war, will you want the kin of those you massacred among your subjects?"

His father had given him a cold look. His dead green eyes expressing disappointment in his son's supposedly naïve question. "War is no game. Evil is committed regardless of the consequences. So I will choose to win. If blood frightens you Gerrion, step aside and let true men shape the world. If you can give an alternative that will deliver Riverrun to me and put an end to the Tully host before Eddard Stark arrives I will gladly hear it. What will these illiterate farmers, shopkeepers, and fishermen do in the future? They can be replaced. By burning a handful of villages I will spare the lives of valuable Lannister men. I will shorten this war and keep your mother and sisters far from danger. By ending a hundred lives I will save thousands. Perhaps even your own. Perhaps the Tyrell girl you have grown so attached to, and any future children she bears."

"She is a Lannister father. As much as mother will ever be."

His father had shrugged. "Perhaps one day, but not in this short time I assure you. Her family's sigil suits her well. Pretty to look at, but become too careless and you will have your fingers pricked on her thorns." He countered casually before continuing his lecture. "You may swing that sword of yours around like Jaime one day. As natural a warrior as I have seen of your age, but a true leader wins battles before they even begin. Do not let idealism blind you to reality or you will meet the same fate as Edmure Tully one day."

There was a wine glass available in the tent they were conversing in. Gerrion drained the contents quickly to grant him additional courage. "Tell me father" he said slowly, though he already knew the answer he would receive. "If it fell to you to bloody your own sword on a weeping mother and her child. If you had to wash the innocent blood off your own sword. Would you carry out your own orders?"

Lucien was unfazed. "Cruelty for the sake of cruelty is vile, but my orders have a purpose. If it meant preserving your life or the lives of your sisters and mother, I would commit any act. Will you do the same for them?"

With that his father had abruptly left him.

Gerrion had been anointed with the seven oils when he was made a knight. It had been a proud moment, a validation of his talent and efforts. But he had to say many vows that day.

'Obey your father' had been one. He had not given it a single thought, he had never disobeyed his father in any material way.

The next vow had been 'Protect the innocent'

The next time he had seen his father they had ridden together into Riverrun with the corpses of villagers behind them.

Edmure Tully's decency had damned him. Edmure remained a prisoner, his seat of power taken from him, and even if he survived he would suffer permanent humiliation.

 _My father scorned Edmure for valuing his lands and common folk. If the roles had been reversed, would my father have been so callous? If his villages were at risk? If Lannisport were to come under siege? If Edmure was a fool, then I am twice the fool. I will not betray my lands, my mother, my sisters, Margery. Iron Throne be damned I will mitigate this suffering._

It was well and truly dark by the time he could sit down, and his wine glass was not even half empty before the War Council began.

Ten Commanders, one for each thousand men met with him. He grew tired of each and every one of them. Nearly every one of them was a bastard in character of some kind except for his Great-Uncle Kevan. Every meeting that he had been at for the past year consisted of war. Years ago, when he was young and brash and stupid he would have been excited. Now he would have liked nothing better than to hang up his swords and let them go to rust. To have nothing more to do than observe his father oversee his vessels in preparation of his responsibilities that would come many years from now. Even if his father was not dead yet, he doubted he would ever see him again.

Predictably, the council became one gigantic headache. "The Valemen outnumber us by nearly half again, our scouts say!" Ser Harys Swyft moaned. "A mere moon's turn ago we held Riverrun. We held the Trident. Now nowhere is safe! Kings Landing is under threat, Lord Tyrell has failed to destroy Stannis Baratheon, and now the Iron Born oppose us. This is a catastrophe."

His father had always held Ser Harys Swyft in low esteem. Gerrion had grown to understand why, the man was easily rattled and showed his fear too easily. He was only here because he was father to Ser Kevan's wife.

"Will you cease your braying? Every bloody person here knows that, we are not as stupid as you."

The speaker was Sandor Clegane 'The Hound'. He was technically now a Lord, though no one addressed him as such. The man was blunt and not one to suffer fools. Whenever Gerrion saw him, he could not help but think of Gregor Clegane, and how he had nearly cost him his betrothal. Gregor Clegane had been as close to a monster as a man could get. A monster that Tywin Lannister was quite fond of unleashing on those unfortunate enough to be labeled as his enemies. But Gregor Clegane was dead. Gerrion had heard stories about Gregor Clegane that made him thankful he would never have to give 'The Mountain That Rides' orders.

Gerrion had been in attendance for the Hand's Tourney back in Kings Landing with his future lady wife Margery of House Tyrell and her grandmother Olenna, also known as the 'Queen of Thorns'.

In fact he had ridden in the tournament. Jousting had never been his forte, but he would have looked weak in front of his betrothed had he not participated. At fourteen he had been the youngest participant.

He had taken down one opponent after another, his youthful confidence growing and growing. His own arrogance and hubris swelling…until he had gone up against Margery's own brother, Loras.

Gerrion had rode a half dozen tilts until Loras Tyrell finally knocked him to the dirt. The audience had applauded the impressive match, and Loras had made an effort to shake his hand with grace.

"Well ridden, brother." The Knight of Flowers had said with a smile.

He had lost, but Margery had welcomed him like a champion with a kiss on the cheek.

"You were incredible." She had told him with a voice that had been incredibly seductive. The way she told him made him feel as if he was the greatest jouster in the history of the seven kingdoms, and not a boy who minutes ago had crashed into the dirt.

It was better that he had lost actually, he had pleased the crowd with a good effort and he could spend the rest of the tournament in the company of his betrothed.

She made the whole experience better. In fact, he found that she made everything better. He had always been drawn to pretty girls and pretty girls had been drawn to him. For his looks and his father's gold. But after he saw his betrothed for the first time he never gave another girl a second glance.

The tournament had all been in good fun, in truth it was his last time to experience the care free nature of being a boy.

 _If only we could have more time together, Margery. I need to get back for you, and to our child. Perhaps the child has even been born._

The end of the tournament had been an omen for things to come.

Loras Tyrell had actually defeated Ser Gregor, and 'The Mountain' had responded by first killing his horse and then attacking Loras Tyrell.

If there had been a sword nearby, Gerrion would have jumped into the fray. But there was not, and he could only shout commands to his father's bannerman that were drowned out by the rest of the audience's shouting.

He had never been so angry, seeing his future nearly torn away from him by a mad dog.

"Kill that rabid bastard." He had screamed at his father in private after the fact. "Attempting to murder the son of a Lord Paramount at a tourney! He is out of control! Put him down!"

His father had been even angrier than he had been. He had not even wanted a tournament in the first place, and now his negotiations with House Tyrell were in jeopardy. Perhaps he could talk his way out of it if he had been treating with Mace Tyrell. But the cleverest person in the world could not have changed Olenna Tyrell's ultimatum. Gerrion had been present when his marital future had hung on the precipice.

"I will give you a choice Lannister, you can either keep your brute. That rabid mindless beast of a man, or your son can have Margery's hand. Along with the treaty and trade agreements that comes with it." The Queen of Thorns said bluntly.

Lucien had relented through gritted teeth. "You will have his head." His father had told her. The next morning he gave it to her personally, holding the monstrously large head by the hair. This of course shocked the poor unfortunate ladies and younger girls that had been by Olenna Tyrell's side. Gerrion heard at least one had fainted.

"A unique wedding gift Lannister." The Queen of Thornes had mocked with a full crooked smile.

"I would recommend having it stuffed, and displayed among the hunting trophies." His father had shot back. And with that, Gerrion's marriage had been salvaged.

Gerrion's musings were broken as Ser Harys Swyft continued his braying. "If the Greyjoy boy had been taken rather than slain, we could have leveraged him to attack Lord Stark's lands instead, perhaps even sent them around and engaged Lord Stannis from the sea."

Pointing out the obvious that was in the past was no good to anyone. Theon Greyjoy could not have been captured, retreat from the disaster on the Trident was difficult enough. But Gerrion had not known of the imminent Vale army at the time. Theon had been aggressive and was not a poor swordsmen. His father had rebuked him harshly when he had toyed around with Greyjoy on the practice yard at Winterfell. In a real battle, he had not held back and Greyjoy lay dead at the end of their duel.

"Enough!" Gerrion shouted, rising to his feet.

Dead silence followed. Every one of them was silent and staring at him, even the Hound.

Gerrion ground his teeth.

"This is not the time for pointless prattle." In the back of his mind, he did not recognize his own voice. He could charm his men well enough. He could be likeable, make others want to fight with him. But he was not an authoritative speaker like Tywin Lannister and his father. Yet he was speaking that way now. Because he absolutely had to.

"We know what is ahead. We know we cannot attempt to cross the Golden Tooth without the enemy force coming down on us. And now that their scouts have seen us, they will not cross themselves until we make a move."

He brought a section of the map of the eventual battlefield forth from the side of the table.

 _You are needed now. Become a Lion of Lannister. Be the man you need to be._ His mother had given him those words the day he had ridden off, and now they began to settle his racing heart. To change his desperation into determination.

"The Lord Arryn's host remains encamped just to the northeast. Our haste has paid off and we have cut them off. Gods help us had they smashed through the Tooth before us. Based upon the severity of his escort, our scouts surmise that he has come personally to this battle. The boy has been feeding off the rich land along the way and hoping we come to him tired and weary. We spend one day to gather and muster our strength, we will be routed if we enter battle haggard."

"And if they attack on the morrow?" Kevan Lannister replied.

"Various attack parties have been raiding nearby towns and a force of around one thousand men trail behind. They will not attack until they have consolidated their strength, but we will assemble a defensive position on the morrow to be sure." Gerrion answered back. Slowly but surely he felt less like a helpless boy with his family and power at risk. He felt like he was transforming into a man that House Lannister needed desperately.

"Lannisport may be burning at this very moment. Time may not be a luxury we can afford." One of the commanders responded.

"It will have to be. They have held thus far, and they must hold a bit more. Pray to the Seven to give our comrades strength to hold off the Iron Fleet."

He had never given his dwarf Uncle much consideration, but he needed him now more than ever.

He continued "Lord Tyrion will have to defend Lannisport for as long as he can. If Lord Arryn is stupid enough to push through the Golden Tooth with an army on his back then we must take advantage. But if he has half a brain between his ears he will ensure he engages us alone out in the field. He shall go no further. His army dies here, and now my Lords, we will design how!"

They talked for hours into the early morning. Gerrion kept a stern look until the last man was gone, then he collapsed into sleep almost immediately.

His bed was empty, even when the Lannister army was at full strength he had refused a bed warmer from the many camp followers that had been present. His bed was reserved for only one women, he had sworn. No common whore could divert his attention away from the beautiful Margery Lannister.

He dreamed of her that night, and it was bliss for the few hours that it lasted. Something as simple as a smile had been a relief to him. It had seemed real for that short amount of time, and real enough was more than adequate.

* * *

 ** _Two Days Later_**

The weather could not have been more perfect. Clear blue skies with nearly no clouds to be seen. It was beautiful really, and he spared it a glance to appreciate it before turning to the task at hand.

"You should be proud, Gerrion."

He pivoted around to face Kevan Lannister who stood behind him.

"Thank you, but I am unsure that I am deserving of it. The songs about this day may very well sing of the foolish boy who led House Lannister to a sudden end."

Kevan gave a small smile. "I am absolutely sure that no young man in the seven kingdoms could have bore the responsibility that rests on you half as well. I say it again, you should be proud my Lord. I believe in you, even when the days are darkest."

Gerrion did not know what to say in the moment. He stood there in full golden armor. A spectacularly crafted set worthy of the heir of Casterly Rock. Two statues of lionesses were perched on his shoulders, he held his helm in the shape of a roaring lion under his arm, and at his side was an immaculate sword from a master blacksmith. It had been a virgin sword at the start of the war, and had drunk the blood of many since.

"Lord Tywin and my father may disagree, but I cannot look back. We have a battle before us, and it requires every speck of strength we can muster."

"You are not my brother or my nephew, Gerrion. You are your own man, and they will respect that. I love them both and I have served them both, as is the duty of a second brother. As I serve you now my Lord. The battle lines are drawn and the men await."

The men awaited their positions in uniform formation. Instilled by strict discipline and Lannister army was ready and able. Their faces were brave and stern. But like all men, Gerrion knew that they must have their doubts. Tywin Lannister was many leagues away, Lucien Lannister was beaten and imprisoned, possibly dead. While Gerrion had fought for a year and his personal skill were well known, he had yet to be responsible for a large scale battle. Fear, or at least doubt, surely crept into their hearts.

Gerrion would have to confront those fears and conquer them as much as he would need to conquer the army of the Vale.

Gerrion was mounted on his well-bred horse that was as black as night. All who saw him that day spoke of how the young Lord looked larger than life.

"Men of the West!" Gerrion shouted. His loud authoritative voice carried throughout the ranks of his soldiers.

"The fight has been long and bloody. Every man here has earned scars, every man here has undergone a coronation in a trial by fire. There are no novices here. Every man here has fought valiantly and with courage. We will need the same today. The army on the other side owes their victories to trickery and deceit. They have yet to meet the true teeth of the Lannister army. They are led by a boy who through selfishness and greed has used this war as an opportunity to sow chaos and destruction. The gods condemn such scoundrels"

Gerrion could tell that the men were listening. They were eager for hope.

"We are the line of defense. A defense of our homeland. These are your lands as much as mine. Your homes they come to burn. Your wives and daughters they seek to defile. Now more than ever, our people need a liberator. That liberator is not one man, it is all of us. Every man today who holds a sword and axe! These Vale Lords come from leagues away on the whim of a boy Lord. They have higher numbers, but they do not have our courage, motivation or resolve! We stand as one, and through that, none shall oppose us."

The hardened soldiers began to cheer. A sound that began to swell and rise. A sound that began to eat away and banish the fear that had been infested in Gerrion's heart. It emboldened him all the more, it caused him to believe everything he was saying himself.

"At the end of this day all Houses of our great lands will be stronger. Every farmer, every fisherman, shopkeeper, miner, and smith. All future descendants will sing of this day. They will sing of the heroics of their ancestors as they enjoy prosperity and luxury. That is the stake and scale today. Let us bring our people deliverance and a future worth singing of! THAT WILL BE OUR LEGACY!"

The roar of the men was deafening. Gerrion felt like a giant, and when he looked across the field the fearsome Vale Army looked like ants, insignificant. And obstacle to be trodden upon. He could almost taste it, he was drunk on anticipation, yet he felt as if he were the veteran of a thousand battles.

He decided to believe absolutely in his success. He decided to win

He drew his longsword with an ornate lion pommel studied with rubies and prayed to the Warrior to guide his hand to strike well today. He raised the sword to the sky.

"Casterly Rock! House Lannister! Lady Margery! HEAR ME ROAR!" He roared with the strength of a true lion.

His men followed suit. Some shouted for their House if they had one: Lannister, Algood, Broom, Prester, Serrett, Westerling, Swyft, Payne, Marbrand, Lydden, Lorch, Lefford, Kenning, Farman, Estren, Brax, Banefort, and Crakehall. A few added shouts for Lord Tywin, Lord Lucien, and even King Joffrey. But all of them prioritized what was most important to them. The names of their children, wives, and paramours. The pious ones shouted the names of the gods.

The noise seemed to propel him forward as he and the army advanced at a full gallop.

The two armies crashed together and the battlefield became chaotic. However, for Gerrion everything seemed to move slowly.

Every time a sword was swung at him, the thought of Margery with a babe at her breast whispering 'I knew you would come back to me my lion' sent the opponent's weapon skidding away. Whenever he imagined his weak brother Brynden feebly grabbing at his finger, struggling to maintain his delicate life, Gerrion's opponent lost a hand, arm, leg, or head.

The battle felt so simple and straightforward for Gerrion. It was one opponent, then another, then another and none could withstand him.

Battle rage was what Uncle Jaime called it. Gerrion had not truly felt it in the other battles, but now he could feel its potency. It was far more potent than intoxication. Mere hours before he had been fearful, stressed, perhaps even terrified. Now at the moment of truth he felt nothing but certainty. He was no longer repulsed in the moment by geysers of blood, screams, severed heads, and grievous irreversible injuries. It was simply what he had to do, and he then moved onto his next unfortunate opponent. It would bother him later, but not now.

He was caught up in his own personal battles, but he was not so engrossed in himself to not be aware of the larger battle. The Vale army was breaking. Not all at once, but piece by piece, man by man. Their will and resolve waning more and more until it would eventually extinguish. They were in a foreign land with a flimsy objective. While a Lannister would fight to the better end to preserve his way of life, the same Vale soldier would yield or retreat to save themselves.

Gerrion's force was outnumbered by five thousand men, but he had never felt as strong when Lord Lucien's full force was together. That was his father's army, but he realized that this one was his.

 _Lord Arryn kicked the hornet's nest. All my men needed was a little courage and then they did the rest. Bloody fool, he should have never come here._

"Calm down boy, leave some for the dog!" He heard a gruff voice behind him after he sent a mounted knight tumbling off his horse to break his neck.

Sandor Clegane was riding a giant black beast of a horse himself, and both horse and dog were covered with gore. "And pull that fucking arrow out. You want to die of infection during your moment of triumph? After the enemy is good and plowed? That's bloody insulting!"

Gerrion glanced at his breastplate and noticed for the first time the arrow lodged in his side, its tip shallowly piercing his skin.

 _I never felt it._

His men surrounded and protected him as he pulled it out.

"My Lord, do you need an escort to a medic." A soldier inquired of him.

Gerrion tossed the arrow aside. "I am not finished. Forward men! Victory awaits!"

The Vale army seemed to commence into a frantic and full retreat, any resolve they possessed crumbled. They were frantic and stumbling over one another.

Then Gerrion saw a truly pleasurable sight. A group of Vale knights. Their armor proved they were wealthy or members of an elite guard. They were dismounted but not attempting to flee. They were in a defensive position, as if protecting someone.

His heart soared, he could hardly believe his good fortune. He prayed that his speculation was accurate, and when he arrived his prayers were answered.

Lord Robert Arryn was slumped against a rock formation that provided cover from three sides. It was clear that he had been thrown from his mount in some way and he had been dragged here and protected by his personal guard.

Arryn was Gerrion's senior in age, but certainly not in experience. He looked green, out of his element, terrified, and in terrible pain. His helm was nowhere to be seen and he favored his left side. Despite himself Gerrion could not help but be pleased to hear his enemy in agony. There was no reason to pity a man who had planned to take everything from him. Gerrion believed the accusation against Joffrey, he sympathized with the other rebels call to arms. Arryn had attacked out of self-interest and went out of his way to attack Gerrion's lands. He may well have had his father killed. That could not be forgiven.

In front of Arryn, only three knights remained standing. Over twenty lay dead. When Gerrion approached, he commanded his men to disengage.

"Robert Arryn, your army seems to have left without you."

Arryn moved his head slightly and moaned "F…F…Fuu…Fuck you Lannister."

"Charming as ever." Gerrion recognized one of the men defending the fallen Lord. "Ser Vardis Eagen, you trained with me in Kings Landing when Jon Arryn was Hand. A good swordsmen and an even better man. Yield, and you will be treated with honor."

Ser Vardis was clearly injured, yet he stood tall. "It is my duty to defend my Lord. We will not yield, we would rather suffer the seven hells then violate our honor and hand our Lord over to you."

Gerrion sighed "Lord Arryn, spare your men. Surrender yourself willingly to captivity."

Robert Arryn was silent.

 _Despicable_ Gerrion thought with revulsion.

He sighed "Ser Vardis, a pity your spineless Lord does not value your lives. Know that you die with honor, which is more than can be said of most."

He sighed aloud again and signaled his men. Ser Vardis and his fellow knights died with honor.

Robert Arryn lay crumpled and broken and Gerrion summoned a medic to ensure that his new hostage remained alive. He had multiple injuries and in no way could he move on his own. Most notable of all, his face was as white as a bedsheet. He looked petrified, and it betrayed the false bravado in his words.

"Your power is over Lannister. You followed me here and are far from Kings Landing. Lord Tywin and the Kingslayer will die, and the rest of your bloody family will be executed for treason soon enough. Your victory is empty, your ruin is neigh. You will all suffer as your father did. He is in the Eyrie far beyond your reach. You cannot do anything to me."

Gerrion felt a deep a sudden urge to throttle the wounded man. To kill him slowly. His father was imprisoned because of this brat, he had threatened his lands and his home. What would he have done if he had gotten his hands on his mother and sisters? Margery and his unborn child? Was this how it began, the ruthlessness that his father and Grandfather where infamous for?

But perhaps justice could be cruel as well, and that would have to suffice.

"On the contrary, the pitch black dungeons of Casterly Rock await you, they make your sky cells seem like a paradise, a fate worse than death. The bowels of the Rock frightened me as a child whenever I felt brave enough to explore them. They will frighten you as well."

 _You could have had my sister as a wife you bloody idiot. Instead you choose to attack my lands. You choose poorly._

When Lannisport was relieved, Lord Arryn would be tucked away into the bowls of Casterly Rock to rot. A terrible sentence as anyone who had been imprisoned there would agree. Still, it would be a kinder fate by far then what would befall him should Lucien Lannister ever get his hands on him.

Gerrion returned to camp triumphant, his men seeing him as a true Lord and a worthy successor in the making to Lord Tywin. But of course the battles were far from over and there was no true celebration. For as soon as possible, they marched to Lannisport.

For Gerrion, celebration was furthest from his mind as he paid his sincere respects to the body of Ser Kevan Lannister.


End file.
